Post by Cory Steel on Oct 24, 2017 9:56:10 GMT -5
3 Months ago...
Somewhere off the coast of Cuba...
Alarms echo through the night at a compound sitting in the middle of thick forest on a island. A tall slender gray colored shaggy haired man with a black cowboy hat, all black jumper, and heavy black boots comes running out of a small trailer. He looked drunk and disheveled, but mad. The man grabbed the nearest man running past him, "Cut that fucking alarm you dumb dick! I want everyone here right fucking now! Find him! Search the whole fucking island because he couldn't have went to far," a man barked through the night at a small group of men with guns and flashlights, "I want him secured without a hitch before the boss ever finds out because if ain't," he paused taking a moment to let his imminent future demise play out through his head, "Well," he saw it on all their faces too, "You guys know. Everyone of us. NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY EYESIGHT!"
The group of men all nod their equal acknowledgment of their current task before taking off to all black Jeeps. The man who was shouting turned to head back into the building behind him but is joined by another man who is clearly distraught, "Captain if we don't contain this man," he began but the Captain cuts him off, "Lundy don't remind me about fuck ups," Captain held up a nubbed left arm, "And who I'm dealing with. I know the fucking repercussions of what will happen so shut the fuck up and tell me again how in the blue fucking Hell Cory Steel escaped a on locked fucking twenty four hour fucking security under fucking ground bunker?!"
Lundy fumbled with his answer, "Sir he," he pointed to a moniter, "We have it all on camera up til," again Lundy was cut off, "Jesus Christ you fucking bumbling mumbling Goddamn fool I'll watch it! Shut the Fuck up and go be useful elsefuckingwhere! Get someone on turning that fucking obnoxious fucking alarm off you Goddamn twat!"
Lundy didn't have to be asked twice as he turned on heel and ran out of the room. Captain sat down in the chair directly behind the moniter and hit the play button.
Meanwhile somewhere else on the island...
Cory Steel was a massive sized man and the speed that he was going through the thick forest in the night was a feat. Since he hit the cool night air Cory had erupted with vigor for the border of the island without a second glance back, 'Least he or she be turned back to salt,' Cory thought as he rolled over a fallen tree. What was supposed to be a prison for the rest of his life and pure Hell created by his big brother turned into months and months of training. Learning. Adapting to life for survival. Cory was faster. He was stronger. Downtime lead to endless learning that soaked into a brain that had only ever known violence or criminal minded injustices. Cory Steel was the prime example of the ripple effect, a stone cast into a somber pond.
Using his free time in the yard Cory formulated a escape plan that took months. Here he was exactly three miles...
*Alarms in the distance*
Cory came to a dead stop to listen, he was ten minutes a head of what he had planned, and he took a moment to catch his breath. They had no helicopters on the compound, the last one left with Judge a few days ago, and the ground team was a cluster fuck of recruits who couldn't wrestle their dicks out of their pants. These people wouldn't dare contact Judge with this, they lived under constant fear of the man and his outburst of punishment for fuck ups. He knew all to well about their leaders outbursts, he gazed down at his missing four fingers, and without a second thought Cory took back off into the forest. Bare feet pounding through the underbrush.
Fourteen miles and he was almost free...
back at the compound...
The Captain watches the video in stunned silence. All they had done was push and create a savage, "A fucking animal," he mumbled under his breath. The door opens with Lundy busting in, "The alarms are off Captain Barker," and Captain Barker looked about the room like it was the first time he had ever seen it, "Well fuck me running Lundy, you little piece of fucking shit you did something fucking productive fort he first fucking time in the last fucking twenty minutes! Oorah you pussy wanna a fucking cookie? Now you dip fucking shit have we heard back from any of the hunt teams?"
Lundy began to fidgit with his hands gulping for air and he pulls at his collar finally as if the room was stifling hot suddenly, "Team two and team six have checked in at the air strip clear, team one is still tracking through the pit, and team three has been radio silent-," Captain Barker suddenly stands up from his chair sending it spilling to the ground and with two steps he slaps Lundy across his face, "Where was team threes point over coverage you silly little fucking bitch?"
Lundy was crying now holding the spot on his cheek that had been slapped, "The boat'," Captain Barker slaps him again, "Goddammit pull every fucking one to the fucking boat yard!"
Captain Barker pushed past Lundy who followed him out the door, "That's where the fucking little tit suckling whore is fucking going you dry cunt! You could have fucking came to that conclusion Lundy you fucking little Fuck if you had a Goddamn fucking brain, get us a transport here right fucking now!"
Lundy screamed finally, "The boat yard has been silent too, Sir. That was our update from team four I jus-," *Crack!* A gunshot cut Lundy off and blew his face through the back of his head. *Crack!* another gunshot shaved a little of his brain out the top of his head before he even fell to his knees where Lundy made choking breathing pleas of bloody mercy from the new hole in his mouth. *Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!* click click click...
Most of the rest of the clip riddled Lundys chest and a few unaided shots blasted chunks out of his neck. Captain Barker holsters his pistol and returns to the security camera station, "Hated to fucking do that," he told himself as he began to switch through the camera spots, "Fucking good man Lundy. Not a better fucking twats tear could have done what you did you poor Goddamn fool," he's stopped at the now burning boat yards camera system, "Mercy on his poor fucking soul. God forgives. Judge don't you scum fuck," and he zoomed in to reveal a haggard Cory Steel giving the finger as the black speedboat darted out of view. Captain Barker sat back in his seat pulling a fresh cigar from his pocket, "Get me a fucking phone!"
A bald middle aged black man enters the room handing Captain Barker a phone, "Private King at your service Captain Barker."
Captain Barker jerks the phone out of Kings hand, "You're a piece of Shit King, Fuck you. Get all the remaining teams got he boat yard for fire fucking control and make a open spot on the fucking air strip for the boss you limp noodle cocksucker!"
King salutes Captain Barker and sprints off to serve. Captain Barker dials a number on the small phone putting it up to his ear, "Judge, Captain Barker here," he lights the cigar, "We got a big fucking fuck problem out here. Judas 1 has escaped sir, he buttfucked a whole team, the boat yard. Yes sir, look fucking forward to it."
off the coast of the island...
Freedom.
Free.
Fresh air pushed his hair back as Cory shoved the throttle of the boat to its max capability. There was going to be Hell to pay for all of those men back there, and the executioner was Judge. It was time to get into the state's he thought and find a new life, change everything about himself. Third chance. Last quarter. Maybe overtime? His team had the ball though. Judge would look for him, Cory was sure of that, but he was going to have to work for it.
PRESENT DAY OCTOBER 24TH.
MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE.
"Vinnie, you and your boys take the dozer back to the last site finish collecting the timber and hydro seed it back," the fat man in the hard hat said as he lit a smoke, "You?" he pointed to the beared man in flannel with his hair tied back, "What's your name?"
The big man stepped forward, "Francis Greenly," it was really Cory Steel, "Mr. Redman."
"Call me Paul, Francis," he laughed and Cory nodded with a smile of his own, "And call me Packie."
"Alright Packie you take two guys head about a mile into the woods a head of us we need y'all to mark off our stop point as well as pinning up some bails of hay on the creek," Paul said and Packie nodded without a word.
Cory had hit the sandy beaches of Florida without a glance or thought of the island. He was on a mission to put it all behind him as fast as possible. First he made contact with a friend for money who set him up with someone who could give him a new identity. Francis 'Packie' Greenly was born, a timber cutter whose wife died of cancer a year ago when they lived in Canada. Moved to the state's for better work and a chance to move on.
Grabbing his chainsaw and two more guys Packie set out into the woods, it was another work day just like the day before, and the day before. Walking out to the site joking with his two friends he reflected on his old life as a savage president of a biker club, head of a old order of political assassin's dating back to the civil war, the murder, and the death of enemies or friends. It felt like thousands of years now, did he miss it? Not at fucking all he thought.
Cory has it all now a great job, land of his own with a house, and a good girlfriend. Where he was no one knew him! They didn't know that at one point if they were around him they would have died because he was a toxic infectious parasite. Cory sucked the life from everything.
"Packie! Packie!"
"Yo little dick," Carl slapped the day dreaming Packie on the shoulder, "Boss man wants you brudda."
Packie hands his gear to Carl and heads back over to his boss, "Yeah?"
Paul points to a black truck, "That uh big fella in the mask, called himself Othello? Wants to have a word with you."
The new life. The freshness of his new life was suddenly sucked dry before his eyes. Othello Craven in his masked glory leaned arms crossed against the truck. He felt the black soul of Cory Steel stir....
......old things died hard evidently.
Somewhere off the coast of Cuba...
Alarms echo through the night at a compound sitting in the middle of thick forest on a island. A tall slender gray colored shaggy haired man with a black cowboy hat, all black jumper, and heavy black boots comes running out of a small trailer. He looked drunk and disheveled, but mad. The man grabbed the nearest man running past him, "Cut that fucking alarm you dumb dick! I want everyone here right fucking now! Find him! Search the whole fucking island because he couldn't have went to far," a man barked through the night at a small group of men with guns and flashlights, "I want him secured without a hitch before the boss ever finds out because if ain't," he paused taking a moment to let his imminent future demise play out through his head, "Well," he saw it on all their faces too, "You guys know. Everyone of us. NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY EYESIGHT!"
The group of men all nod their equal acknowledgment of their current task before taking off to all black Jeeps. The man who was shouting turned to head back into the building behind him but is joined by another man who is clearly distraught, "Captain if we don't contain this man," he began but the Captain cuts him off, "Lundy don't remind me about fuck ups," Captain held up a nubbed left arm, "And who I'm dealing with. I know the fucking repercussions of what will happen so shut the fuck up and tell me again how in the blue fucking Hell Cory Steel escaped a on locked fucking twenty four hour fucking security under fucking ground bunker?!"
Lundy fumbled with his answer, "Sir he," he pointed to a moniter, "We have it all on camera up til," again Lundy was cut off, "Jesus Christ you fucking bumbling mumbling Goddamn fool I'll watch it! Shut the Fuck up and go be useful elsefuckingwhere! Get someone on turning that fucking obnoxious fucking alarm off you Goddamn twat!"
Lundy didn't have to be asked twice as he turned on heel and ran out of the room. Captain sat down in the chair directly behind the moniter and hit the play button.
Meanwhile somewhere else on the island...
Cory Steel was a massive sized man and the speed that he was going through the thick forest in the night was a feat. Since he hit the cool night air Cory had erupted with vigor for the border of the island without a second glance back, 'Least he or she be turned back to salt,' Cory thought as he rolled over a fallen tree. What was supposed to be a prison for the rest of his life and pure Hell created by his big brother turned into months and months of training. Learning. Adapting to life for survival. Cory was faster. He was stronger. Downtime lead to endless learning that soaked into a brain that had only ever known violence or criminal minded injustices. Cory Steel was the prime example of the ripple effect, a stone cast into a somber pond.
Using his free time in the yard Cory formulated a escape plan that took months. Here he was exactly three miles...
*Alarms in the distance*
Cory came to a dead stop to listen, he was ten minutes a head of what he had planned, and he took a moment to catch his breath. They had no helicopters on the compound, the last one left with Judge a few days ago, and the ground team was a cluster fuck of recruits who couldn't wrestle their dicks out of their pants. These people wouldn't dare contact Judge with this, they lived under constant fear of the man and his outburst of punishment for fuck ups. He knew all to well about their leaders outbursts, he gazed down at his missing four fingers, and without a second thought Cory took back off into the forest. Bare feet pounding through the underbrush.
Fourteen miles and he was almost free...
back at the compound...
The Captain watches the video in stunned silence. All they had done was push and create a savage, "A fucking animal," he mumbled under his breath. The door opens with Lundy busting in, "The alarms are off Captain Barker," and Captain Barker looked about the room like it was the first time he had ever seen it, "Well fuck me running Lundy, you little piece of fucking shit you did something fucking productive fort he first fucking time in the last fucking twenty minutes! Oorah you pussy wanna a fucking cookie? Now you dip fucking shit have we heard back from any of the hunt teams?"
Lundy began to fidgit with his hands gulping for air and he pulls at his collar finally as if the room was stifling hot suddenly, "Team two and team six have checked in at the air strip clear, team one is still tracking through the pit, and team three has been radio silent-," Captain Barker suddenly stands up from his chair sending it spilling to the ground and with two steps he slaps Lundy across his face, "Where was team threes point over coverage you silly little fucking bitch?"
Lundy was crying now holding the spot on his cheek that had been slapped, "The boat'," Captain Barker slaps him again, "Goddammit pull every fucking one to the fucking boat yard!"
Captain Barker pushed past Lundy who followed him out the door, "That's where the fucking little tit suckling whore is fucking going you dry cunt! You could have fucking came to that conclusion Lundy you fucking little Fuck if you had a Goddamn fucking brain, get us a transport here right fucking now!"
Lundy screamed finally, "The boat yard has been silent too, Sir. That was our update from team four I jus-," *Crack!* A gunshot cut Lundy off and blew his face through the back of his head. *Crack!* another gunshot shaved a little of his brain out the top of his head before he even fell to his knees where Lundy made choking breathing pleas of bloody mercy from the new hole in his mouth. *Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!* click click click...
Most of the rest of the clip riddled Lundys chest and a few unaided shots blasted chunks out of his neck. Captain Barker holsters his pistol and returns to the security camera station, "Hated to fucking do that," he told himself as he began to switch through the camera spots, "Fucking good man Lundy. Not a better fucking twats tear could have done what you did you poor Goddamn fool," he's stopped at the now burning boat yards camera system, "Mercy on his poor fucking soul. God forgives. Judge don't you scum fuck," and he zoomed in to reveal a haggard Cory Steel giving the finger as the black speedboat darted out of view. Captain Barker sat back in his seat pulling a fresh cigar from his pocket, "Get me a fucking phone!"
A bald middle aged black man enters the room handing Captain Barker a phone, "Private King at your service Captain Barker."
Captain Barker jerks the phone out of Kings hand, "You're a piece of Shit King, Fuck you. Get all the remaining teams got he boat yard for fire fucking control and make a open spot on the fucking air strip for the boss you limp noodle cocksucker!"
King salutes Captain Barker and sprints off to serve. Captain Barker dials a number on the small phone putting it up to his ear, "Judge, Captain Barker here," he lights the cigar, "We got a big fucking fuck problem out here. Judas 1 has escaped sir, he buttfucked a whole team, the boat yard. Yes sir, look fucking forward to it."
off the coast of the island...
Freedom.
Free.
Fresh air pushed his hair back as Cory shoved the throttle of the boat to its max capability. There was going to be Hell to pay for all of those men back there, and the executioner was Judge. It was time to get into the state's he thought and find a new life, change everything about himself. Third chance. Last quarter. Maybe overtime? His team had the ball though. Judge would look for him, Cory was sure of that, but he was going to have to work for it.
PRESENT DAY OCTOBER 24TH.
MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE.
"Vinnie, you and your boys take the dozer back to the last site finish collecting the timber and hydro seed it back," the fat man in the hard hat said as he lit a smoke, "You?" he pointed to the beared man in flannel with his hair tied back, "What's your name?"
The big man stepped forward, "Francis Greenly," it was really Cory Steel, "Mr. Redman."
"Call me Paul, Francis," he laughed and Cory nodded with a smile of his own, "And call me Packie."
"Alright Packie you take two guys head about a mile into the woods a head of us we need y'all to mark off our stop point as well as pinning up some bails of hay on the creek," Paul said and Packie nodded without a word.
Cory had hit the sandy beaches of Florida without a glance or thought of the island. He was on a mission to put it all behind him as fast as possible. First he made contact with a friend for money who set him up with someone who could give him a new identity. Francis 'Packie' Greenly was born, a timber cutter whose wife died of cancer a year ago when they lived in Canada. Moved to the state's for better work and a chance to move on.
Grabbing his chainsaw and two more guys Packie set out into the woods, it was another work day just like the day before, and the day before. Walking out to the site joking with his two friends he reflected on his old life as a savage president of a biker club, head of a old order of political assassin's dating back to the civil war, the murder, and the death of enemies or friends. It felt like thousands of years now, did he miss it? Not at fucking all he thought.
Cory has it all now a great job, land of his own with a house, and a good girlfriend. Where he was no one knew him! They didn't know that at one point if they were around him they would have died because he was a toxic infectious parasite. Cory sucked the life from everything.
"Packie! Packie!"
"Yo little dick," Carl slapped the day dreaming Packie on the shoulder, "Boss man wants you brudda."
Packie hands his gear to Carl and heads back over to his boss, "Yeah?"
Paul points to a black truck, "That uh big fella in the mask, called himself Othello? Wants to have a word with you."
The new life. The freshness of his new life was suddenly sucked dry before his eyes. Othello Craven in his masked glory leaned arms crossed against the truck. He felt the black soul of Cory Steel stir....
......old things died hard evidently.