Post by veronicaaaahhhh on Oct 19, 2006 12:04:04 GMT -5
Wayne McGurk Odium RP- Solitaire
FROM THE DISTANCE he saw Obo leave the building, it was about time; had two packs of Camel’s while he waited. Wayne sat in the dark, across the steering wheel; driver’s seat. It’s was a Ford; was black, small, inconspicuous, had four doors, and it ran on little fuel. It was all he needed. Wayne raised the volume of the radio; Faith No More’s “Midlife Crisis” was on. It was a good
ing song if he ever heard one. He expected to see Vanessa tonight; he won the fight- it’s his right. And damned, he didn’t have her back yet. He gave Obo the chance to let; now it was his turn to take matters onto his own two hands. Already went to the cops; ing useless. They laughed at him and thought it was a rouse, a God damned act! So Wayne asked to speak with Special Victim’s detective John Munch. The man was cynical, but at least he could offer a solution. ers.
Wayne ran his fingers though the air-conditioning before picking up another box of Camels; eye’s still on Obo. Picked the wrong man to with, because Wayne McGurk doesn’t get mad- he gets even. Wayne lit a cigarette- Obo’s still standing there; hell’s he doing? Biting his nails! Obo raised an arm and fetched a cab. Wayne hit the gas. Slowly.
Now it begins.
Obo, you’re going to burn. You can laugh and say you have the upper hand. Whether you do or you don’t, I couldn’t really care. I don’t care if you me over come Odium, I won’t really have anything to defend or to fight for, I’m just doing a job. Either which way it goes, I’m going to you up. I am a believer in the common rule: “Do Un To Others As You Want Them To Do Un To You”. I will shake your hand, and maybe kiss your feet. Because you’ve got your coming and I promise to deliver it ten fold. And I promise to withdraw you from the lack of sanity you dearly cling onto.
Yukio, you are the prime example of a man who has fallen into an industry standard. Think of this sport as a masquerade. I’ve chosen to show my face from the moment I stepped into the game- you chose a mask. And over time, the mask you proudly wore depreciated into your own naked face; the character never took control of the man- your humanity prevailed. It’s the squared circle’s game of aging. What I admire about you is how rapidly you’ve matured over a short period of time. Naturally, this process can take years. But like your colleague Obo, you’re still a child. You see Obo is the buck-toothed fat kid who lost the ball to the better kid; seeking out redemption in the form of a temper tantrum.
You, at a moment of despair, like Obo, took shots at Kyzer, Drakz, and Vanessa, when the person you should have antagonized is me. You aren’t champion yet? Fine, accept it. Deal with it. If I had lost at SuperBrawl or Odium, I would have moved on man. There are other times, a different venue and a new tide. If you accept fate, the chance will return again and again until you’ve grown to covet it.
Now, I’ve already explained our allegiance with Drakz and Kyzer several times before. And like Obo, you had no right to suck them into this. Nor had you had the right to defile my wife, in particular. She has been through so much, and this never would have happened on account of me. Leave her alone, and despite the fact that you’ve beaten her before, she has no qualms over you; same way I have no qualms over Reverend Shadow, who was the last person to beat me. Yukio, you could have learned from Obo’s example and took the high road, but you didn’t. It was cheap. It was desperate. And I will see to it that you will eat your words.
As a matter of fact, you’re aing hypocrite. You all are. What you people are oblivious to is the fact that neither Kyzer nor Drazk have called for your immediate dismissal; you’re all still on the pay role. That can, they have every right to; it’s their company. You can all run your mouths and say what you want, but that won’t change a damn thing. You’re still around; think about that the next time you collect the salary.
*
“LOVE IS A BURNING THING. And it makes, a fiery ring”. The words woke Wayne up; could’ve sworn he heard the trumpet intro in his sleep. Johnny Cash. The Man in Black. Wayne rubbed his eyes and reached again for the pack of Camels, it was empty; last pack- ****. Wayne had followed Obo down to a four story apartment building in the lower south side of town, an area lined with dilapidated residential building constructed in the late-nineteen thirties. It wasn’t exactly the bad side of town, the most you got here were a bunch of drugged-up art-s looking for a statement; like poverty and depreciation were nothing more than a hook, a God damned fashion. It was like those suburban white kids pretending to be black; made him sick.
Obo’s been there awhile.
Wayne couldn’t look through the apartment from where he was; what the hell was going on in there? It was killing Wayne. He had assumptions and speculations, but he didn’t have a full drawn conclusion. He was getting headache, didn’t have an Advil or an Aspirin, but he continued to stay put. The man wanted his wife back, and he wanted the have everything all at once, and he wanted to cherish it.
I fell into a burning ring of fire.
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.
And it burns, burns, burns; the ring of fire.
The ring of fire.
The song took a little of the edge off Wayne; his favorite Johnny Cash song. He could still vividly remember his father playing the song whenever they’d drive down South. Like Wayne, and his father before him, Louie McGurk, was also a professional wrestler. In the East Coast, he was used as nothing more as aing jobber; first man through the curtain. Whatever Louie was deprived off in the East, was compensated for in the Mid-West, Mid-South, and Mexico. Wayne remembered all those vast sights of sand he would pass whenever they drove down to Tijuana; “Ring Of Fire” always there. It was a surprise, because Wayne would only think of it whenever he passes down the desert.
Obo was still inside. Damn.
Vanessa’s in there. He knows it, he can feel it; it’s a gut feeling if he ever had one. Vanessa’s his flame; light’s his fire. Wayne stared deep into a window; top floor, third from the left. There were people inside that- he could tell. The lights were still on, but that was all he knew. The rest was blocked by a curtain. She’s in there. Wayne didn’t know what to call it, and never jumped into any conclusions, but he and Vanessa shared and connected with a fierce telepathy. God, was that the best way to describe it? The two could tell each other things without using their lips or any body language. All they needed to do was just look at each other, and he’d have whatever he needed to know. This was it.
Wayne considered his options:
1. Wait for Obo to leave, get in, get the girl. Done.
Makes sure he’s gone. He got his ticket to Singapore earlier; his next stop could very well be the airport. Half the roster are scheduled to leave tomorrow.
2. Go in, kick Obo’s ass, get the girl.
Just finish it off once and for all. The bastard wouldn’t even see it coming. Break through the door and kick his ass. Beat him down and never give him the chance. Be the hero, like El Mariachi. Not Banderas, the original Mexican guy from the first one. Like El Mariachi, but American.
Had to do it now; there was nothing else to say and the wait was killing him. Wayne reached into the glove compartment and withdrew a pair of leather gloves; slipped ‘em on. Wayne shut the radio off, rolled the windows back up, and shut of the ignition. There wasn’t much to think, only do; instinct. And Wayne was flowing through it.
Wayne left the car where it was; parked in the middle of the adjacent block. Wayne took in the air of the night- it was crisp, with the faint scent of gyros. Wayne looked over towards the building. Whether if he’s in there or not, which he probably was, he was doing this. Like Harry Mitchell in Fifty-Two Pick Up; yeah. The cool motherer the bad guys accidentally chose to with.
Wayne took the first step onto the sidewalk and caught Obo leaving the building. Wayne remained by the car, why was he hiding? Wayne couldn’t understand his logic, but passed it off. Obo caught a cab and went in, just as Wayne began to walk across the street. He saw Obo through the darkness; the prick feeding the driver directions- ‘ought to be in hell. Wayne kept his eyes at Obo; Obo glanced forward and saw Wayne. Bare eyes meeting- feeding off a soup of hate, deception, and surprise. The cab speed off forward; Wayne ran into the building. There was something wrong, and Wayne could feel it. He isn’t supposed to be here, but he went in anyway.
Wayne reached the top floor and found himself surrounded by nine apartments in total; third from the left, he came in from the right. It was three doors down. Wayne stood before the door, turned the knob; locked. Wayne began twisting it, until it finally gave way. The door swung open before him, giving him a good smack in the face. Obo stood across the door way. Wayne recovered and darted towards Obo, who, by now, was deep inside the room. Wayne ran in; a studio with green walls. Obo couldn’t be found anywhere. Wayne took another step inside and had a can of hashed corned beef thrown at his face.
Come on, McGurk. I’m right here.
Wayne stumbled over.ing can nailed him in the nose; he was bleeding.
WAYNE!
Wayne knew the voice; Vanessa.
Obo raised his eyes and cupped his ear.
What’s that you say?
Wayne got right back up and ran towards Obo, but Obo was a step ahead and took him down with a drop toe hold. Obo motioned over Wayne and towards the bathroom. Wayne took Obo by the leg and took him down. Wayne mounted Obo and drove his fist into Obo’s forehead. That felt good. Wayne removed the gloves and sent another shot to Obo’s nose. Wayne crawled up and ran towards the bathroom. Kicked the door down and burst it. There was nothing in here, but a cassette player.
WAYNE!
It was the God dammed player. Wayne took the cassette player in his hand and threw it against the pale-tilled walls; cracked upon impact- fell apart when it hit the floor. It was like Vancouver all over again. Went back to the Arena after he realized Vanessa was gone; he came too late. Wayne thought about interrogating Obo; got this far. But it’s worthless. No matter how hard you beat him, he isn’t going to say ****.
Wayne walked out of the bathroom, Obo was gone. And so was she; empty. Wayne stood in the middle of a small hallway and for the first time in years, he cried. Didn’t know why; he just broke down. He had everything he wanted, but in turn he lost his wife, and with that his sense of peace and security. It was an uneven trade off and Wayne wasing sick of this; wasting time.
The gut feeling took him once again. She’s here; he can feel it. Wayne motioned to a cabinet. This was it. Wayne opened the cabinet and it was empty. It wasing empty. The gut continued to kick in; do it. Wayne pushed the cabinet to the side and found a door; probably a closet. Wayne turned the knob, it was padlocked. Wayne sifted around the apartment and found an old golf club. It was rusty, but it would probably get the job done. Wayne pulled his arms back, swung overhead, and dropped the golf club into the padlock; nothing. Wayne continued to beat the padlock until it finally gave way. Wayne pulled off the padlock and threw away the golf club. This was it. He opened the door and there she was, alone in the closet. Half naked, gagged, bound, eyes taped shut.
Vanessa.
Wayne pulled off the gag.
Wayne?
A sudden tingle of surprise in her voice.
Wayne kissed her on the lips, she caught him back; bliss.
Come on, babe, let’s get out of here.
Wayne slowly peeled off the duct tape over her eyes. There they we’re, those green eyes; emerald fusion.
I can’t see.
That’s okay.
Wayne ripped off the ropes that bounded her. Vanessa felt her arms. Wayne took his flannel shirt off, covered Vanessa, and took her into his arms.
*
It was a quarter past eleven by the time Wayne woke up; late. Scarlet was still asleep and Wayne could hear the showing on. Vanessa’s probably in there. They all slept together last night; father, mother, and daughter- reunited at last. Wayne had them in his arms, and woke up various times to make sure they we’re still there. Wayne crawled out of the bed and gave Scarlet a kiss on the forehead.
Wayne went into the bathroom; Vanessa was in the shower. Wayne placed the lid on the toilet and took a seat.
Hey.
Do you know what I just realized?
What?
That every conversation we’ve had, whatever it was, we always began it with “Hey”… It’s pretty cool.
It slipped my mind before, but I’ve never really paid attention to it.
Looking at it now, they were the first words I ever told you.
Indeed they were.
Wayne saw another pattern, that they always played circles before they ever got into the main issue. Didn’t know why…
Vanessa closed the faucet and opened the curtain.
I’m sorry; I’m sorry I got caught up with my bull ****, and I’m sorry I didn’t act quickly. I’m sorry, I wish I could think of something else to do- something else to say, but I’m fried.
Vanessa brought him to her lips and kissed him. Wayne looked at her face, and stared; he was happy. Happiness never came often, and he decided to take advantage of it while it was around. Wayne kissed Vanessa back, she smiled. He felt safe, he felt complete, he felt love, and he felt horny.
FROM THE DISTANCE he saw Obo leave the building, it was about time; had two packs of Camel’s while he waited. Wayne sat in the dark, across the steering wheel; driver’s seat. It’s was a Ford; was black, small, inconspicuous, had four doors, and it ran on little fuel. It was all he needed. Wayne raised the volume of the radio; Faith No More’s “Midlife Crisis” was on. It was a good
ing song if he ever heard one. He expected to see Vanessa tonight; he won the fight- it’s his right. And damned, he didn’t have her back yet. He gave Obo the chance to let; now it was his turn to take matters onto his own two hands. Already went to the cops; ing useless. They laughed at him and thought it was a rouse, a God damned act! So Wayne asked to speak with Special Victim’s detective John Munch. The man was cynical, but at least he could offer a solution. ers.Wayne ran his fingers though the air-conditioning before picking up another box of Camels; eye’s still on Obo. Picked the wrong man to
with, because Wayne McGurk doesn’t get mad- he gets even. Wayne lit a cigarette- Obo’s still standing there; hell’s he doing? Biting his nails! Obo raised an arm and fetched a cab. Wayne hit the gas. Slowly.Now it begins.
Obo, you’re going to burn. You can laugh and say you have the upper hand. Whether you do or you don’t, I couldn’t really care. I don’t care if you
me over come Odium, I won’t really have anything to defend or to fight for, I’m just doing a job. Either which way it goes, I’m going to you up. I am a believer in the common rule: “Do Un To Others As You Want Them To Do Un To You”. I will shake your hand, and maybe kiss your feet. Because you’ve got your coming and I promise to deliver it ten fold. And I promise to withdraw you from the lack of sanity you dearly cling onto.Yukio, you are the prime example of a man who has fallen into an industry standard. Think of this sport as a masquerade. I’ve chosen to show my face from the moment I stepped into the game- you chose a mask. And over time, the mask you proudly wore depreciated into your own naked face; the character never took control of the man- your humanity prevailed. It’s the squared circle’s game of aging. What I admire about you is how rapidly you’ve matured over a short period of time. Naturally, this process can take years. But like your colleague Obo, you’re still a child. You see Obo is the buck-toothed fat kid who lost the ball to the better kid; seeking out redemption in the form of a temper tantrum.
You, at a moment of despair, like Obo, took shots at Kyzer, Drakz, and Vanessa, when the person you should have antagonized is me. You aren’t champion yet? Fine, accept it. Deal with it. If I had lost at SuperBrawl or Odium, I would have moved on man. There are other times, a different venue and a new tide. If you accept fate, the chance will return again and again until you’ve grown to covet it.
Now, I’ve already explained our allegiance with Drakz and Kyzer several times before. And like Obo, you had no right to suck them into this. Nor had you had the right to defile my wife, in particular. She has been through so much, and this never would have happened on account of me. Leave her alone, and despite the fact that you’ve beaten her before, she has no qualms over you; same way I have no qualms over Reverend Shadow, who was the last person to beat me. Yukio, you could have learned from Obo’s example and took the high road, but you didn’t. It was cheap. It was desperate. And I will see to it that you will eat your words.
As a matter of fact, you’re a
ing hypocrite. You all are. What you people are oblivious to is the fact that neither Kyzer nor Drazk have called for your immediate dismissal; you’re all still on the pay role. That can, they have every right to; it’s their company. You can all run your mouths and say what you want, but that won’t change a damn thing. You’re still around; think about that the next time you collect the salary. *
“LOVE IS A BURNING THING. And it makes, a fiery ring”. The words woke Wayne up; could’ve sworn he heard the trumpet intro in his sleep. Johnny Cash. The Man in Black. Wayne rubbed his eyes and reached again for the pack of Camels, it was empty; last pack- ****. Wayne had followed Obo down to a four story apartment building in the lower south side of town, an area lined with dilapidated residential building constructed in the late-nineteen thirties. It wasn’t exactly the bad side of town, the most you got here were a bunch of drugged-up art-
s looking for a statement; like poverty and depreciation were nothing more than a hook, a God damned fashion. It was like those suburban white kids pretending to be black; made him sick.Obo’s been there awhile.
Wayne couldn’t look through the apartment from where he was; what the hell was going on in there? It was killing Wayne. He had assumptions and speculations, but he didn’t have a full drawn conclusion. He was getting headache, didn’t have an Advil or an Aspirin, but he continued to stay put. The man wanted his wife back, and he wanted the have everything all at once, and he wanted to cherish it.
I fell into a burning ring of fire.
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.
And it burns, burns, burns; the ring of fire.
The ring of fire.
The song took a little of the edge off Wayne; his favorite Johnny Cash song. He could still vividly remember his father playing the song whenever they’d drive down South. Like Wayne, and his father before him, Louie McGurk, was also a professional wrestler. In the East Coast, he was used as nothing more as a
ing jobber; first man through the curtain. Whatever Louie was deprived off in the East, was compensated for in the Mid-West, Mid-South, and Mexico. Wayne remembered all those vast sights of sand he would pass whenever they drove down to Tijuana; “Ring Of Fire” always there. It was a surprise, because Wayne would only think of it whenever he passes down the desert.Obo was still inside. Damn.
Vanessa’s in there. He knows it, he can feel it; it’s a gut feeling if he ever had one. Vanessa’s his flame; light’s his fire. Wayne stared deep into a window; top floor, third from the left. There were people inside that- he could tell. The lights were still on, but that was all he knew. The rest was blocked by a curtain. She’s in there. Wayne didn’t know what to call it, and never jumped into any conclusions, but he and Vanessa shared and connected with a fierce telepathy. God, was that the best way to describe it? The two could tell each other things without using their lips or any body language. All they needed to do was just look at each other, and he’d have whatever he needed to know. This was it.
Wayne considered his options:
1. Wait for Obo to leave, get in, get the girl. Done.
Makes sure he’s gone. He got his ticket to Singapore earlier; his next stop could very well be the airport. Half the roster are scheduled to leave tomorrow.
2. Go in, kick Obo’s ass, get the girl.
Just finish it off once and for all. The bastard wouldn’t even see it coming. Break through the door and kick his ass. Beat him down and never give him the chance. Be the hero, like El Mariachi. Not Banderas, the original Mexican guy from the first one. Like El Mariachi, but American.
Had to do it now; there was nothing else to say and the wait was killing him. Wayne reached into the glove compartment and withdrew a pair of leather gloves; slipped ‘em on. Wayne shut the radio off, rolled the windows back up, and shut of the ignition. There wasn’t much to think, only do; instinct. And Wayne was flowing through it.
Wayne left the car where it was; parked in the middle of the adjacent block. Wayne took in the air of the night- it was crisp, with the faint scent of gyros. Wayne looked over towards the building. Whether if he’s in there or not, which he probably was, he was doing this. Like Harry Mitchell in Fifty-Two Pick Up; yeah. The cool mother
er the bad guys accidentally chose to with.Wayne took the first step onto the sidewalk and caught Obo leaving the building. Wayne remained by the car, why was he hiding? Wayne couldn’t understand his logic, but passed it off. Obo caught a cab and went in, just as Wayne began to walk across the street. He saw Obo through the darkness; the prick feeding the driver directions- ‘ought to be in hell. Wayne kept his eyes at Obo; Obo glanced forward and saw Wayne. Bare eyes meeting- feeding off a soup of hate, deception, and surprise. The cab speed off forward; Wayne ran into the building. There was something wrong, and Wayne could feel it. He isn’t supposed to be here, but he went in anyway.
Wayne reached the top floor and found himself surrounded by nine apartments in total; third from the left, he came in from the right. It was three doors down. Wayne stood before the door, turned the knob; locked. Wayne began twisting it, until it finally gave way. The door swung open before him, giving him a good smack in the face. Obo stood across the door way. Wayne recovered and darted towards Obo, who, by now, was deep inside the room. Wayne ran in; a studio with green walls. Obo couldn’t be found anywhere. Wayne took another step inside and had a can of hashed corned beef thrown at his face.
Come on, McGurk. I’m right here.
Wayne stumbled over.
ing can nailed him in the nose; he was bleeding.WAYNE!
Wayne knew the voice; Vanessa.
Obo raised his eyes and cupped his ear.
What’s that you say?
Wayne got right back up and ran towards Obo, but Obo was a step ahead and took him down with a drop toe hold. Obo motioned over Wayne and towards the bathroom. Wayne took Obo by the leg and took him down. Wayne mounted Obo and drove his fist into Obo’s forehead. That felt good. Wayne removed the gloves and sent another shot to Obo’s nose. Wayne crawled up and ran towards the bathroom. Kicked the door down and burst it. There was nothing in here, but a cassette player.
WAYNE!
It was the God dammed player. Wayne took the cassette player in his hand and threw it against the pale-tilled walls; cracked upon impact- fell apart when it hit the floor. It was like Vancouver all over again. Went back to the Arena after he realized Vanessa was gone; he came too late. Wayne thought about interrogating Obo; got this far. But it’s worthless. No matter how hard you beat him, he isn’t going to say ****.
Wayne walked out of the bathroom, Obo was gone. And so was she; empty. Wayne stood in the middle of a small hallway and for the first time in years, he cried. Didn’t know why; he just broke down. He had everything he wanted, but in turn he lost his wife, and with that his sense of peace and security. It was an uneven trade off and Wayne was
ing sick of this; wasting time.The gut feeling took him once again. She’s here; he can feel it. Wayne motioned to a cabinet. This was it. Wayne opened the cabinet and it was empty. It was
ing empty. The gut continued to kick in; do it. Wayne pushed the cabinet to the side and found a door; probably a closet. Wayne turned the knob, it was padlocked. Wayne sifted around the apartment and found an old golf club. It was rusty, but it would probably get the job done. Wayne pulled his arms back, swung overhead, and dropped the golf club into the padlock; nothing. Wayne continued to beat the padlock until it finally gave way. Wayne pulled off the padlock and threw away the golf club. This was it. He opened the door and there she was, alone in the closet. Half naked, gagged, bound, eyes taped shut. Vanessa.
Wayne pulled off the gag.
Wayne?
A sudden tingle of surprise in her voice.
Wayne kissed her on the lips, she caught him back; bliss.
Come on, babe, let’s get out of here.
Wayne slowly peeled off the duct tape over her eyes. There they we’re, those green eyes; emerald fusion.
I can’t see.
That’s okay.
Wayne ripped off the ropes that bounded her. Vanessa felt her arms. Wayne took his flannel shirt off, covered Vanessa, and took her into his arms.
*
It was a quarter past eleven by the time Wayne woke up; late. Scarlet was still asleep and Wayne could hear the showing on. Vanessa’s probably in there. They all slept together last night; father, mother, and daughter- reunited at last. Wayne had them in his arms, and woke up various times to make sure they we’re still there. Wayne crawled out of the bed and gave Scarlet a kiss on the forehead.
Wayne went into the bathroom; Vanessa was in the shower. Wayne placed the lid on the toilet and took a seat.
Hey.
Do you know what I just realized?
What?
That every conversation we’ve had, whatever it was, we always began it with “Hey”… It’s pretty cool.
It slipped my mind before, but I’ve never really paid attention to it.
Looking at it now, they were the first words I ever told you.
Indeed they were.
Wayne saw another pattern, that they always played circles before they ever got into the main issue. Didn’t know why…
Vanessa closed the faucet and opened the curtain.
I’m sorry; I’m sorry I got caught up with my bull ****, and I’m sorry I didn’t act quickly. I’m sorry, I wish I could think of something else to do- something else to say, but I’m fried.
Vanessa brought him to her lips and kissed him. Wayne looked at her face, and stared; he was happy. Happiness never came often, and he decided to take advantage of it while it was around. Wayne kissed Vanessa back, she smiled. He felt safe, he felt complete, he felt love, and he felt horny.
