Post by Justin Kaard on Mar 14, 2016 21:04:14 GMT -5
Justin crashed down the alley, around a tight corner, and slid to relative safety behind a dumpster. Blood thundered in his ears and through his veins. Chaos erupted in the night as someone or something charged down the alley after him with all the grace of a localized explosion. Justin clamped a hand over his mouth to hold in a scream as he watched another dumpster crashed half way through a wall less than ten feet from where he was currently hiding.
He peeked around the corner and immediately regretted it. His higher mind struggled to rationalize what he was looking at. It wasn't eight feet tall, it was just a trick of perception. It didn't have hands that ended in wicked claws, just abnormally long fingers. And it most certainly wasn't blood dripping from said long fingers, it was...anything else not blood. While his higher mind rebelled; the lizard portion of his brain knew exactly what he was looking at. Death.
As whatever-the-hell-it-was stopped to sniff the air, no doubt able to smell the stench of terror that radiated from Justin, movement on the other side of the alley caught its attention. It sped away with an almost alien grace towards the new sounds. Using its distraction to his advantage, Justin ran. But the screams that emanated from the creatures direction were something Justin would never forget. Because how do you forget the sound of someone being ripped apart?
"Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream," Justin repeated to himself over and over again as he ran.
Justin hooked around a corner, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the nightmare that was chasing him. So focused was Justin that he didn't notice the wall in front of him until he bounced off of it.
Justin tumbled back onto the concrete and stared at the wall with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. Behind him, heavy footsteps that ended with the clicking of claws turned the corner.
"This is it, this is how I die," he thought.
This was not how he had thought his day was going to go.
************************
Justin scratched his leg and stifled a yawn as he walked into the living room. Eric was in front of the television, right where he'd been when Justin had gone to bed.
"Morning," Eric casually tossed over his shoulder as he shot yet another character on screen.
Justin grunted as he leaned against the couch, "Have you slept at all?"
"Justin, I'm offended. I am a responsible adult with many adult-like responsibilities. Did I sleep? The question itself insults me!"
"So that's a no then?" Justin smirked.
"Not a wink, New York isn't going to take back itself after all."
"That's what I thought," Justin snickered.
"Besides, you shouldn't be worried about me, I'm not the one with a grim future."
Justin rolled his eyes, "You're taking far too much delight in the fact that I'm facing Grimm. Do you really hate me that much?"
"Actually, I couldn't be more proud of you. Not only are you facing the most dangerous man in the sport, you're facing him for the title. Don't you get, Justin? This is your chance for payback." Eric twisted to peer over the back of the sofa.
Justin was silent. October 15th, 2013 wasn't a date he was fond of thinking of. It was the day he'd received one of the most one sided beatings of his life. It was the day Grimm had taken the World title from him and driven him into a retirement that had lasted several years.
Grimm had always been held as the pinnacle of PCW brutality even before Justin's first run with the company. Over the years he'd only managed to become more vicious, the most recent World Title match where he'd absolutely destroyed his own brother was testament to that. While Justin couldn't match anyone on the roster in power, very few people could match him in speed. But how effective would that speed be against the Science of 8 Limbs?
"No," Justin shook his head, "this isn't payback. If I go into this with that kind attitude I'm going to be playing right into Grimm's hands and he's going to absolutely obliterate me. He's probably going to do that anyway, but I don't need to make it any easier for him."
"I suggest hugging him," Eric offered deadpan, "It will confuse and frighten him."
Justin grinned at the ridiculous visual. Any hug with Grimm was sure to end one way and one way only. Snap. Crackle. Pop.
"Well seeing as I don't currently have a better plan I might do just that."
Eric set the controller down, "All kidding aside, I find myself both extremely proud and extremely disgusted with you, Justin. You came back on fire, you were incredible to watch; and then something happened. You started to slip back into your old habits, you were inconsistent as hell. One week you'd be amazing and then the next week, it's like you weren't even there. Yet through all of your inconsistencies you've somehow managed to get a title match. I worry that you're not taking this seriously and now that you've started slipping back into these bad habits it's not going to stop."
"So when are you going to get to the disappointed part?" Justin quipped.
"I'm serious, Justin. You told me and even started to show me how much you'd grown up in Japan. But the last several weeks all I've seen is the obnoxious, spoiled brat you used to be. You asked me here to help you, to keep you from slipping. But despite my best efforts you seem damned intent on being exactly who you were three years ago. You asked me earlier if I'd slept? The answer is still no, but not for why you think. I've been trying to figure out the best way to help you, Justin. I don't think I can help you by staying here. That's why I'm leaving for Seattle tonight."
Justin's heart dropped to the vicinity of his knees, "Just like that? You're just going to abandon me right before the biggest match of my comeback? Eric, I need you. I need you here, I can't do this by myself."
"You're going to have to, Justin. You've grown too comfortable with me here. Life is good, life is easy, so why try? You didn't need me before you left for Japan, you didn't need me while you were there, and you don't need me now. All I'm doing is holding you back."
"Eric," Justin trailed off.
Eric stood up from the couch and hugged his younger brother. Justin's shoulders bobbed violently as a sob wracked his entire body.
"You've got greatness in you, Justin. You just have to ask yourself; who do you want to be?"
The rest of the day passed in a haze. As the sun dipped beyond the horizon Justin found himself somewhere he rarely frequented. He tapped the counter as the bartender refilled the small glass liquid amber. Justin picked up the glass and let the fiery liquid trickle down his throat. He focused on the tiny drop that escaped his thirsty lips and trickled down his chin towards freedom. Justin tapped the glass against the table again.
"You're rather deep into the cups tonight," a presence from beside him said as he sat down.
Justin scoffed and stared at the empty glass pointedly, "Buddy, that ain't anybodies business except mine."
"Justin, you've been my business since you got back to South Carolina."
Justin whirled on the stranger, "It's you, from the diner!"
He looked the same. Or different. Justin couldn't tell. Surely more whiskey would help that.
"It's me from the diner," the old man looked amused and reached for Justin's arm, "and my employer has decided it's time for you two to meet."
Justin brushed the hand away with a scowl, "Tell your "employer" I'm not in the mood for his fucking games tonight. If he wants to meet with me he can make a fucking appointment."
The old man smiled again, somehow managing to look both amused and incensed at the same time, "At what point did I give you the impression that I was asking."
He grabbed Justin by the collar and, with strength that belied his years, hauled the much younger man from his seat. Justin yelped and tried to break free. He might as well have tried to lift a car for all the good it did him. The other patrons in the bar kept to their own cups, not wanting to get involved in the struggle. It didn't last long as Justin found himself deposited roughly in a booth. It was only as he was trying to pick up the pieces of his dignity did he realize he wasn't alone.
"It's good to meet you at last, Justin."
That voice again. That aggravating on tip-of-your-tongue familiarity of it. Justin looked up, "You're-"
James Keenan sat across from Justin and nodded, "I see I'm still recognized by some."
"-dressed like a bad Blade extra," Justin finished.
Keenan laughed as he looked down at the black leather coat he wore over his suit, "Personally I would have gone with The Matrix, but I suppose that works too. Also, I have to apologize for Richard's behavior. He's never been the friendliest sort, but he means well."
Justin scowled over at the newly named old man, "He needs a swift kick in the teeth."
James' return grin was all teeth, "You could try it but I can't guarantee they'd ever find all your pieces."
Justin sulked back into the booth, "So this is it? You bail me out of jail, you keep running tabs on me with your goon, and do god knows what else just so you can interrupt my night out with cheesy threats? Thanks but no thanks, if you don't mind I'm going to head back to my drink. Thanks for the bail money, by the way."
"You know I used to be a lot like you, Justin. More talent than I knew what to do with but I pissed it away because my ego and the bottle got in the way. I don't want to see that happen to you, Justin. I'm here to offer you an opportunity, a chance to step outside of yourself and do something that matters for the world."
"Are you going to ask me if I'm a bad enough dude to save the President next?"
"Not hardly. Justin, what would you say if I told you that all the stories you grew up hearing, all the monster you were afraid of as a child, are real?" James asked matter of fact.
"I'd say you sound like you need to have your meds adjusted."
James let out another short laugh, "I'm pretty sure I said the same thing. Right before one of those monsters that doesn't exist threw me out of a fifteenth story window. If it hadn't been for Richard I'd have been a splat on the pavement and a story on page three."
"Not a very good monster then."
"No, he wasn't," James agreed, "Which is why when Richard made me the same offer I'm making you right now I jumped at the chance."
"Well bully for you and bully for Richard but I'm not interested. Monster's aren't real, you're insane, and I'm done with this conversation," Justin got up to leave. Richard moved to stop him but a single gesture from James stopped him.
"Are you sure?" Richard loomed over the table
James stared into Justin's glassy eyes for an uncomfortably long moment before he shrugged, "We can't force anyone into this life. Mr. Kaard is of course free to go enjoy what's left of his evening," he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Justin, "For when you change your mind."
Justin looked at the card with the same revulsion he would a soiled diaper before leaving.
As he shuffled home along the deserted street he wasn't nearly as drunk as he wanted to be. Funny how one bad encounter could ruin a good buzz. A hand reached from behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. Justin whirled, shoving the hand away.
"I told you I wasn't interested in your little monster club," he yelled at the person who most decided was neither Richard nor James Keenan. He had not noticed one of the other patrons follow him outside. "Oh, sorry," Justin fumbled with an apology, "I thought you were someone else."
"The man in the bar, he wanted to recruit you?" The man tilted his head a little too far, smiling a little too large.
"Yeah, can you believe it? He wanted to -wait, what?" Justin was confused.
"He wanted to recruit you. To hunt us. Which means you have to die."
Something underneath the man's face began to writhe and his bones began to snap. Justin saw his skin stretch and begin to split. His lizard brain was screaming for him to run. So he ran.
************************
Justin tumbled back onto the concrete and stared at the wall with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. Behind him, heavy footsteps that ended with the clicking of claws turned the corner.
"This is it, this is how I die," he thought
He closed his eyes and waited for the moment his life was snuffed out. He felt the sharp stabs of regret as he realized the very last conversation he had ever had with his brother, his best friend, had been a fight. He'd have to make that right in the next life.
The creature's howl was unearthly, a weird undulating sound that caused Justin's bones to crawl. It stalked closer, its claws clicking. Click. Click. Click. This was it. Any second now.
Another second passed and Justin was still alive. With morbid curiosity he opened his eyes and peeked over his shoulder. The thing was just standing there, its' eyes completely unfocused; and then it fell apart. Justin screamed and scrambled away on all fours and the creature's top half slid away from its bottom. James Keenan stood behind it with a Japanese katana at his side, staring dispassionately at the creature as it died. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a cloth from it to wipe the gore and ichor from the blade before putting it back into a sheathe that Justin couldn't see. He walked over to where Justin sat trembling and kneeled down next to him.
"This is just the start, Justin. Where this thing came from there are a million more just like it, to say nothing of the creatures it serves. You've been brought into a war that humanity has no idea is being waged, Justin. That's why I took an interest in you, kept an eye on you. It's why I'm offering to train you. You've got greatness in you, Justin. You just have to ask yourself; who do you want to be?"
Justin had to wonder, taking in the carnage before him, just how grim his future could really be.
He peeked around the corner and immediately regretted it. His higher mind struggled to rationalize what he was looking at. It wasn't eight feet tall, it was just a trick of perception. It didn't have hands that ended in wicked claws, just abnormally long fingers. And it most certainly wasn't blood dripping from said long fingers, it was...anything else not blood. While his higher mind rebelled; the lizard portion of his brain knew exactly what he was looking at. Death.
As whatever-the-hell-it-was stopped to sniff the air, no doubt able to smell the stench of terror that radiated from Justin, movement on the other side of the alley caught its attention. It sped away with an almost alien grace towards the new sounds. Using its distraction to his advantage, Justin ran. But the screams that emanated from the creatures direction were something Justin would never forget. Because how do you forget the sound of someone being ripped apart?
"Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream," Justin repeated to himself over and over again as he ran.
Justin hooked around a corner, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the nightmare that was chasing him. So focused was Justin that he didn't notice the wall in front of him until he bounced off of it.
Justin tumbled back onto the concrete and stared at the wall with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. Behind him, heavy footsteps that ended with the clicking of claws turned the corner.
"This is it, this is how I die," he thought.
This was not how he had thought his day was going to go.
************************
Justin scratched his leg and stifled a yawn as he walked into the living room. Eric was in front of the television, right where he'd been when Justin had gone to bed.
"Morning," Eric casually tossed over his shoulder as he shot yet another character on screen.
Justin grunted as he leaned against the couch, "Have you slept at all?"
"Justin, I'm offended. I am a responsible adult with many adult-like responsibilities. Did I sleep? The question itself insults me!"
"So that's a no then?" Justin smirked.
"Not a wink, New York isn't going to take back itself after all."
"That's what I thought," Justin snickered.
"Besides, you shouldn't be worried about me, I'm not the one with a grim future."
Justin rolled his eyes, "You're taking far too much delight in the fact that I'm facing Grimm. Do you really hate me that much?"
"Actually, I couldn't be more proud of you. Not only are you facing the most dangerous man in the sport, you're facing him for the title. Don't you get, Justin? This is your chance for payback." Eric twisted to peer over the back of the sofa.
Justin was silent. October 15th, 2013 wasn't a date he was fond of thinking of. It was the day he'd received one of the most one sided beatings of his life. It was the day Grimm had taken the World title from him and driven him into a retirement that had lasted several years.
Grimm had always been held as the pinnacle of PCW brutality even before Justin's first run with the company. Over the years he'd only managed to become more vicious, the most recent World Title match where he'd absolutely destroyed his own brother was testament to that. While Justin couldn't match anyone on the roster in power, very few people could match him in speed. But how effective would that speed be against the Science of 8 Limbs?
"No," Justin shook his head, "this isn't payback. If I go into this with that kind attitude I'm going to be playing right into Grimm's hands and he's going to absolutely obliterate me. He's probably going to do that anyway, but I don't need to make it any easier for him."
"I suggest hugging him," Eric offered deadpan, "It will confuse and frighten him."
Justin grinned at the ridiculous visual. Any hug with Grimm was sure to end one way and one way only. Snap. Crackle. Pop.
"Well seeing as I don't currently have a better plan I might do just that."
Eric set the controller down, "All kidding aside, I find myself both extremely proud and extremely disgusted with you, Justin. You came back on fire, you were incredible to watch; and then something happened. You started to slip back into your old habits, you were inconsistent as hell. One week you'd be amazing and then the next week, it's like you weren't even there. Yet through all of your inconsistencies you've somehow managed to get a title match. I worry that you're not taking this seriously and now that you've started slipping back into these bad habits it's not going to stop."
"So when are you going to get to the disappointed part?" Justin quipped.
"I'm serious, Justin. You told me and even started to show me how much you'd grown up in Japan. But the last several weeks all I've seen is the obnoxious, spoiled brat you used to be. You asked me here to help you, to keep you from slipping. But despite my best efforts you seem damned intent on being exactly who you were three years ago. You asked me earlier if I'd slept? The answer is still no, but not for why you think. I've been trying to figure out the best way to help you, Justin. I don't think I can help you by staying here. That's why I'm leaving for Seattle tonight."
Justin's heart dropped to the vicinity of his knees, "Just like that? You're just going to abandon me right before the biggest match of my comeback? Eric, I need you. I need you here, I can't do this by myself."
"You're going to have to, Justin. You've grown too comfortable with me here. Life is good, life is easy, so why try? You didn't need me before you left for Japan, you didn't need me while you were there, and you don't need me now. All I'm doing is holding you back."
"Eric," Justin trailed off.
Eric stood up from the couch and hugged his younger brother. Justin's shoulders bobbed violently as a sob wracked his entire body.
"You've got greatness in you, Justin. You just have to ask yourself; who do you want to be?"
The rest of the day passed in a haze. As the sun dipped beyond the horizon Justin found himself somewhere he rarely frequented. He tapped the counter as the bartender refilled the small glass liquid amber. Justin picked up the glass and let the fiery liquid trickle down his throat. He focused on the tiny drop that escaped his thirsty lips and trickled down his chin towards freedom. Justin tapped the glass against the table again.
"You're rather deep into the cups tonight," a presence from beside him said as he sat down.
Justin scoffed and stared at the empty glass pointedly, "Buddy, that ain't anybodies business except mine."
"Justin, you've been my business since you got back to South Carolina."
Justin whirled on the stranger, "It's you, from the diner!"
He looked the same. Or different. Justin couldn't tell. Surely more whiskey would help that.
"It's me from the diner," the old man looked amused and reached for Justin's arm, "and my employer has decided it's time for you two to meet."
Justin brushed the hand away with a scowl, "Tell your "employer" I'm not in the mood for his fucking games tonight. If he wants to meet with me he can make a fucking appointment."
The old man smiled again, somehow managing to look both amused and incensed at the same time, "At what point did I give you the impression that I was asking."
He grabbed Justin by the collar and, with strength that belied his years, hauled the much younger man from his seat. Justin yelped and tried to break free. He might as well have tried to lift a car for all the good it did him. The other patrons in the bar kept to their own cups, not wanting to get involved in the struggle. It didn't last long as Justin found himself deposited roughly in a booth. It was only as he was trying to pick up the pieces of his dignity did he realize he wasn't alone.
"It's good to meet you at last, Justin."
That voice again. That aggravating on tip-of-your-tongue familiarity of it. Justin looked up, "You're-"
James Keenan sat across from Justin and nodded, "I see I'm still recognized by some."
"-dressed like a bad Blade extra," Justin finished.
Keenan laughed as he looked down at the black leather coat he wore over his suit, "Personally I would have gone with The Matrix, but I suppose that works too. Also, I have to apologize for Richard's behavior. He's never been the friendliest sort, but he means well."
Justin scowled over at the newly named old man, "He needs a swift kick in the teeth."
James' return grin was all teeth, "You could try it but I can't guarantee they'd ever find all your pieces."
Justin sulked back into the booth, "So this is it? You bail me out of jail, you keep running tabs on me with your goon, and do god knows what else just so you can interrupt my night out with cheesy threats? Thanks but no thanks, if you don't mind I'm going to head back to my drink. Thanks for the bail money, by the way."
"You know I used to be a lot like you, Justin. More talent than I knew what to do with but I pissed it away because my ego and the bottle got in the way. I don't want to see that happen to you, Justin. I'm here to offer you an opportunity, a chance to step outside of yourself and do something that matters for the world."
"Are you going to ask me if I'm a bad enough dude to save the President next?"
"Not hardly. Justin, what would you say if I told you that all the stories you grew up hearing, all the monster you were afraid of as a child, are real?" James asked matter of fact.
"I'd say you sound like you need to have your meds adjusted."
James let out another short laugh, "I'm pretty sure I said the same thing. Right before one of those monsters that doesn't exist threw me out of a fifteenth story window. If it hadn't been for Richard I'd have been a splat on the pavement and a story on page three."
"Not a very good monster then."
"No, he wasn't," James agreed, "Which is why when Richard made me the same offer I'm making you right now I jumped at the chance."
"Well bully for you and bully for Richard but I'm not interested. Monster's aren't real, you're insane, and I'm done with this conversation," Justin got up to leave. Richard moved to stop him but a single gesture from James stopped him.
"Are you sure?" Richard loomed over the table
James stared into Justin's glassy eyes for an uncomfortably long moment before he shrugged, "We can't force anyone into this life. Mr. Kaard is of course free to go enjoy what's left of his evening," he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Justin, "For when you change your mind."
Justin looked at the card with the same revulsion he would a soiled diaper before leaving.
As he shuffled home along the deserted street he wasn't nearly as drunk as he wanted to be. Funny how one bad encounter could ruin a good buzz. A hand reached from behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. Justin whirled, shoving the hand away.
"I told you I wasn't interested in your little monster club," he yelled at the person who most decided was neither Richard nor James Keenan. He had not noticed one of the other patrons follow him outside. "Oh, sorry," Justin fumbled with an apology, "I thought you were someone else."
"The man in the bar, he wanted to recruit you?" The man tilted his head a little too far, smiling a little too large.
"Yeah, can you believe it? He wanted to -wait, what?" Justin was confused.
"He wanted to recruit you. To hunt us. Which means you have to die."
Something underneath the man's face began to writhe and his bones began to snap. Justin saw his skin stretch and begin to split. His lizard brain was screaming for him to run. So he ran.
************************
Justin tumbled back onto the concrete and stared at the wall with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. Behind him, heavy footsteps that ended with the clicking of claws turned the corner.
"This is it, this is how I die," he thought
He closed his eyes and waited for the moment his life was snuffed out. He felt the sharp stabs of regret as he realized the very last conversation he had ever had with his brother, his best friend, had been a fight. He'd have to make that right in the next life.
The creature's howl was unearthly, a weird undulating sound that caused Justin's bones to crawl. It stalked closer, its claws clicking. Click. Click. Click. This was it. Any second now.
Another second passed and Justin was still alive. With morbid curiosity he opened his eyes and peeked over his shoulder. The thing was just standing there, its' eyes completely unfocused; and then it fell apart. Justin screamed and scrambled away on all fours and the creature's top half slid away from its bottom. James Keenan stood behind it with a Japanese katana at his side, staring dispassionately at the creature as it died. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a cloth from it to wipe the gore and ichor from the blade before putting it back into a sheathe that Justin couldn't see. He walked over to where Justin sat trembling and kneeled down next to him.
"This is just the start, Justin. Where this thing came from there are a million more just like it, to say nothing of the creatures it serves. You've been brought into a war that humanity has no idea is being waged, Justin. That's why I took an interest in you, kept an eye on you. It's why I'm offering to train you. You've got greatness in you, Justin. You just have to ask yourself; who do you want to be?"
Justin had to wonder, taking in the carnage before him, just how grim his future could really be.
