Post by Stormm on Dec 3, 2018 19:43:25 GMT -5
“Silent Grove.” The answer to a question being asked from the other end of a phone conversation that could either last another hour, or end abruptly, depending on how Lindsay took it. “Yeah, shouldn’t take long, just need to get it done.” Silence on both ends.
Justin had traveled across Kansas by himself that afternoon. Lindsay was in Texas visiting family with the twins, while the Force of Nature stayed behind to train at home for his match against Grimm. The incident from a couple weeks prior had been a part of it too.
Izzy had not traveled with the kids this time, either, as she was given December off to go back to New York to visit friends and family. There was a lot of animosity within her family since she’d taken the nanny gig for the Michaels, and she had not flown back as early as initially planned. Instead, she decided to stick around Kansas for a couple extra weeks during her vacation to take in the Midwest on her own, while not on the job.
“No, she went into the city, I told her I’d let her know when I got back so she wouldn’t be there alone.” His wife was not happy with the small drug operation that he discovered while searching for a tree. She was more scared than anything, given the fact that Justin had a gun pulled on him, and it came across more as anger.
What made the situation worse was how calm Justin had been about it all, despite the gun that had been buried into his back, just above his right shoulder blade. If the fugitives hadn’t been so lousy at what they were doing, and not realizing how to turn off the safeties on their guns, he would have ended up with more than just a few bumps and bruises.
The Michaels’ tree farmer and his two associates were now resting unpeacefully behind bars for trying to take advantage of the large property in which to conduct their business, and they left no indication of anything else for the family to worry about, but Lindsay was not about to stop.\
The Force of Nature was convinced that he had less of a chance of anything happening on the estate from that point on than he did being in blue-collar America where he was spending part of his day. “No, yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I love you too.” Back into his pocket the cell phone went.
He placed his hands on the railing and stared out into the neighborhood from the wrap-around porch on the early 1900’s ranch style home. It was a quaint home, in the middle of Hell.
Silent Grove had never welcomed Justin, nor did it seem to welcome anyone that wasn’t originally from the area. Not only did it fail to welcome them, but it ironically seemed to do what it could to drive people away. From the inside looking out, it was as picturesque as a community could be. But to everyone else, the sun never shined.
Justin’s mind has always played tricks on him from time to time, like most people, but all three times, including that visit, that he’d been to town, Silent Grove had found a new way to torment him.
As quickly as Justin had turned to knock on the door after his conversation, he turned back towards the front lawn.
This trip to Silent Grove, anything with a reflection, Grimm’s face was there. This time, he appeared to be standing on the sidewalk in front of the house from within the reflection of the large window by the front door. Upon inspection of the real world, however, no such demon.
The pattern seemed to be centered around Justin being able to avoid thoughts he would otherwise suppress, at least for a time, while within the city limits. That visit was all about Phinehas, and the battle to come at Collision Course.
One of very few people who had as much if not more history with the company as Stormm, and through all the hate, friendship, business, and respect, their time in Pure Class Wrestling was coming to head the following weekend, and for the North American title.
Taking a deep breath, Justin turned back to the front door, this time staring at the window. Once again, the red hair, the boots, the gray zip-up hoodie, just staring back at him. The whole time, that song, just eating away at him from the back of his mind.
Taking one step towards the front door of the house, Justin wanted to get what he came for and get back out before he went crazy, and the front door came flying open before he could ring the doorbell. “Mr. Michaels?”
An imposing figure stood in the doorway and extended a hand. He had at least three inches on the Force of Nature, and probably thirty or forty more pounds at that. “Yeah, and you must be An…”
“Anthony Cole, yes. I represent Doctor and Misses Sorrow on behalf of SSC.” His pearly whites in contrast to his ebon skin, without construing it as racist, really were like night and day. “But you can call me Cotton.”
Shaking the man’s hand, Justin felt compelled to ask. “SSC?”
Extending his other hand into the house and offering Justin the opportunity to enter the abode before him, Cotton followed him in and shut the door behind them. “Sampson, Scott, and Cole, my the firm my partners and I practice from in Kansas City.”
“So why am I here, Cotton?” Skipping any other pleasantries, a smirk came to his face, realizing just how like Damian Sorrow it was to have hired a black man name Cotton to work for him. “Honestly, I was expecting a little more fire and brimstone and a lot less brick and columns.”
Cotton chuckled as he unbuttoned his navy blue suit jacket and lead Justin into the kitcher, where his briefcase was sitting on the counter. The streak of bright white down the right side of his head, amongst the rest of the pitch black coif was almost distracting for Justin, who got caught staring at it. “Been like that since I was child, it’s why they call me Cotton.” Justin nodded, and the lawyer got the awkward conversation out the way early to oblige his haste. “Now then.”
Rummaging around in his briefcase, Justin inspected his surroundings some more, still in awe at the house that his tormentors for most of his life had lived in before their deaths. The inset glass cabinets allowed one more devilish grin from the Hangtown horror, and he found himself in a staring contest with the figment of his imagination. A contest he would not win.
Placing a manilla envelope on the counter next to him, Cotton also retrieved a stack of paper and pen as well. “First thing first, if I could have your signature here and here to confirm that I have given you the first item that the deceased have you.”
Confused, the Force of Nature scribbled his mark and stared at the package. “What is it?”
“That I do not know, but the contents of it will require me to get your signature four more times.” Pushing the envelope closer to Justin, Cotton nods and smiles.
He wasted no time, and ripped into the envelope, producing three file folders, a folded slip of paper, and a ring with five keys attached to it. The file folders drew his interest first, and the first one he opened was marked “Patient Zero.” Further inspection was fruitless as the only words in the file that hadn’t been redacted were the three on the first page, the patient’s name, Damian Bane Sorrow; and then three more on the final sheet in the folder, also the patient’s name, but the one listed on his birth certificate, Wayne Arthur Michaels.
Looking around for a chair to sit in, it was obvious that the estate sale had taken place, as there was nothing left inside. The shock that came over him shifted several times, first confusion, then anger, then more confusion, and finally amusement. As official as the document looked, for something that’s existed since 1946, Justin assumed it was forged, and placed there to torment him.
He moved onto the second file folder, the one marked “Patient 1” and the thicker of the three. Flipping through the contents, already knowing it was his file, he saw several interesting pages go by, including interview transcripts with his parents with some pharmaceutical logo in the corner, then what looked to be dozens of handwritten entries into the file about surveillance on Justin and his family. Nothing new that he could see, and he set his folder down and moved to the thinnest file, the one marked “Patient 727.”
This file folder only had 1 thing in it, a photograph that looked to be taken at night from the back of a cargo van with its doors wide open. A man lay unconscious on the shoulder underneath a Highway 81 sign. A small town appears to be in the distance, and handwritten in permanent marker on the photograph, it says “Alive – Geneva, NE.”
Justin leaned up against the counter and stacked the file folders neatly, shaking his head. “Figures.”
“Excuse me?” Cotton queried back, but Justin only shook his head. “Well, if you are done perusing those files, I think that little slip of paper should be taken care of next, if you could sign here and here now.” Justin scribbled his name again, and Cotton took back off towards the living room, in particular, a bookshelf that had been built into the wall.
“Just what I need, a bookshelf I’d have to tear out of the wall.” But as he was making light of the situation, Cotton had reached underneath one of the shelves and flipped a switch, to which the shelving unit sucked into the wall and slid to the side, revealing a secret staircase. “Of course.”
“Down these stairs is a small room, there is nothing left in that room except for a large duffle bag and safe built into the wall. You are to open the safe, put the contents of the safe into the bag, and then come back up so we can finish up.” Standing stoically, Cotton stared back into the kitchen, having obviously read the instructions from a script.
Doing as instructed, Justin made his way down the spiral staircase, and at the bottom an unlocked door. Opening the door, he was met with a little more than what he was instructed.
The entire safe room was lined with mirrors. Dozens of images of Grimm face to face with the Force of Nature, and he nearly went back up the stairs and told the lawyer to forget it, but he pressed on. Unfolding the piece of paper, it revealed a combination. He pushed in the keys…
Seven.
Two.
Seven.
One.
Zero.
Seven.
Eight.
...and then a loud click that signalled that the metal box was unlocked. He bent down to grab the back and then opened the safe. The first thing he grabbed were a dozen or so DVDs, only marked with numbers in sequential order. Underneath them was another file folder with big red letters stating the confidentiality of the file, as well as a written warning in the corner to not open until after watching all the video on the disks. The folder itself was then labeled
The last thing in the safe was almost a shocking as everything else. Stacks upon stacks of bundled hundred dollar bills. There were at least fifty by the time he emptied the safe into the duffle. Not that he needed money at all, it continued to add to the peculiar afternoon.
Exiting the room and back up the stairs as quickly as he could, he gave Cotton a strange look after making it back to the main floor. “I’m not so sure about this…”
“It was left for you, and I’m not to ask about how much–” Coughing, the lawyer corrects himself. “Ask about IT.” He smiles at Justin that friendly yet intimidating smile. “Any questions you have can be taken up with your lawyer.”
Extending his hand back out towards the kitchen, much like he did when inviting Justin inside earlier, Cotton is inviting Justin back to the paperwork, and the last couple of signatures he needs to give before going on his way. “So what are the keys for?” Wasting no more time, Justin is blunt.
Cotton obliges to make things quick with his response. “This house, or at least the four big keys are anyway. It’s currently valued at close to three hundred and fifty, I’d be happy to help you…”
“And what is this little one for?”
“Yes, that one, it said that one was for a safety deposit box somewhere in the US, but there were no address or bank names left for it, nor does the key suggest any particular establishment. All I was left with was a vague hint.” Looking unamused at the situation, Cotton furled his brow, and tilts his head, as if asking for the hint without words. “I’m just supposed to tell you that if you can count, you can find it. Sign here and here.”
Two more signatures, and The Force of Nature’s afternoon in Silent Grove was almost over. Taking the smaller key off of the keyring, he tossed the rest of them at Cotton. “There you go.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t want it, do what you need to with it.” He picked up the duffle bag and shoved the manilla envelope from earlier into it, and headed for the door.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
Justin laughed as he stopped dead in his tracks one last time. The reflection of Grimm in the front window was back, this time from the inside. “Keep it. Sell it. Donate it. I couldn’t care less, I want nothing more to do with the Sorrows, or this place.
Opening the front door, Justin, again, stopped dead in his tracks. There, on the sidewalk, where Grimm appeared in the “reflection” a moment prior, he stood, seemingly in the flesh.
He closed his eyes and clenched them tight, either waiting for the attack, or for his mind to stop playing tricks. Cotton, standing in the front door just like when they met, called out to Justin who was still frozen at the bottom of the porch steps. “I’m not legally capable of doing anything with it, at least, not without your permission in writing.” Opening his eyes, the vision of Grimm was gone.
“Then burn it down!”
Justin had traveled across Kansas by himself that afternoon. Lindsay was in Texas visiting family with the twins, while the Force of Nature stayed behind to train at home for his match against Grimm. The incident from a couple weeks prior had been a part of it too.
Izzy had not traveled with the kids this time, either, as she was given December off to go back to New York to visit friends and family. There was a lot of animosity within her family since she’d taken the nanny gig for the Michaels, and she had not flown back as early as initially planned. Instead, she decided to stick around Kansas for a couple extra weeks during her vacation to take in the Midwest on her own, while not on the job.
“No, she went into the city, I told her I’d let her know when I got back so she wouldn’t be there alone.” His wife was not happy with the small drug operation that he discovered while searching for a tree. She was more scared than anything, given the fact that Justin had a gun pulled on him, and it came across more as anger.
What made the situation worse was how calm Justin had been about it all, despite the gun that had been buried into his back, just above his right shoulder blade. If the fugitives hadn’t been so lousy at what they were doing, and not realizing how to turn off the safeties on their guns, he would have ended up with more than just a few bumps and bruises.
The Michaels’ tree farmer and his two associates were now resting unpeacefully behind bars for trying to take advantage of the large property in which to conduct their business, and they left no indication of anything else for the family to worry about, but Lindsay was not about to stop.\
The Force of Nature was convinced that he had less of a chance of anything happening on the estate from that point on than he did being in blue-collar America where he was spending part of his day. “No, yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I love you too.” Back into his pocket the cell phone went.
He placed his hands on the railing and stared out into the neighborhood from the wrap-around porch on the early 1900’s ranch style home. It was a quaint home, in the middle of Hell.
Silent Grove had never welcomed Justin, nor did it seem to welcome anyone that wasn’t originally from the area. Not only did it fail to welcome them, but it ironically seemed to do what it could to drive people away. From the inside looking out, it was as picturesque as a community could be. But to everyone else, the sun never shined.
Justin’s mind has always played tricks on him from time to time, like most people, but all three times, including that visit, that he’d been to town, Silent Grove had found a new way to torment him.
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Don’t fret precious, I’m here!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Don’t fret precious, I’m here!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
As quickly as Justin had turned to knock on the door after his conversation, he turned back towards the front lawn.
This trip to Silent Grove, anything with a reflection, Grimm’s face was there. This time, he appeared to be standing on the sidewalk in front of the house from within the reflection of the large window by the front door. Upon inspection of the real world, however, no such demon.
The pattern seemed to be centered around Justin being able to avoid thoughts he would otherwise suppress, at least for a time, while within the city limits. That visit was all about Phinehas, and the battle to come at Collision Course.
One of very few people who had as much if not more history with the company as Stormm, and through all the hate, friendship, business, and respect, their time in Pure Class Wrestling was coming to head the following weekend, and for the North American title.
Taking a deep breath, Justin turned back to the front door, this time staring at the window. Once again, the red hair, the boots, the gray zip-up hoodie, just staring back at him. The whole time, that song, just eating away at him from the back of his mind.
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Step away from the window!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Step away from the window!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Taking one step towards the front door of the house, Justin wanted to get what he came for and get back out before he went crazy, and the front door came flying open before he could ring the doorbell. “Mr. Michaels?”
An imposing figure stood in the doorway and extended a hand. He had at least three inches on the Force of Nature, and probably thirty or forty more pounds at that. “Yeah, and you must be An…”
“Anthony Cole, yes. I represent Doctor and Misses Sorrow on behalf of SSC.” His pearly whites in contrast to his ebon skin, without construing it as racist, really were like night and day. “But you can call me Cotton.”
Shaking the man’s hand, Justin felt compelled to ask. “SSC?”
Extending his other hand into the house and offering Justin the opportunity to enter the abode before him, Cotton followed him in and shut the door behind them. “Sampson, Scott, and Cole, my the firm my partners and I practice from in Kansas City.”
“So why am I here, Cotton?” Skipping any other pleasantries, a smirk came to his face, realizing just how like Damian Sorrow it was to have hired a black man name Cotton to work for him. “Honestly, I was expecting a little more fire and brimstone and a lot less brick and columns.”
Cotton chuckled as he unbuttoned his navy blue suit jacket and lead Justin into the kitcher, where his briefcase was sitting on the counter. The streak of bright white down the right side of his head, amongst the rest of the pitch black coif was almost distracting for Justin, who got caught staring at it. “Been like that since I was child, it’s why they call me Cotton.” Justin nodded, and the lawyer got the awkward conversation out the way early to oblige his haste. “Now then.”
Rummaging around in his briefcase, Justin inspected his surroundings some more, still in awe at the house that his tormentors for most of his life had lived in before their deaths. The inset glass cabinets allowed one more devilish grin from the Hangtown horror, and he found himself in a staring contest with the figment of his imagination. A contest he would not win.
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Don’t fret precious I’m here!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Don’t fret precious I’m here!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Placing a manilla envelope on the counter next to him, Cotton also retrieved a stack of paper and pen as well. “First thing first, if I could have your signature here and here to confirm that I have given you the first item that the deceased have you.”
Confused, the Force of Nature scribbled his mark and stared at the package. “What is it?”
“That I do not know, but the contents of it will require me to get your signature four more times.” Pushing the envelope closer to Justin, Cotton nods and smiles.
He wasted no time, and ripped into the envelope, producing three file folders, a folded slip of paper, and a ring with five keys attached to it. The file folders drew his interest first, and the first one he opened was marked “Patient Zero.” Further inspection was fruitless as the only words in the file that hadn’t been redacted were the three on the first page, the patient’s name, Damian Bane Sorrow; and then three more on the final sheet in the folder, also the patient’s name, but the one listed on his birth certificate, Wayne Arthur Michaels.
Looking around for a chair to sit in, it was obvious that the estate sale had taken place, as there was nothing left inside. The shock that came over him shifted several times, first confusion, then anger, then more confusion, and finally amusement. As official as the document looked, for something that’s existed since 1946, Justin assumed it was forged, and placed there to torment him.
He moved onto the second file folder, the one marked “Patient 1” and the thicker of the three. Flipping through the contents, already knowing it was his file, he saw several interesting pages go by, including interview transcripts with his parents with some pharmaceutical logo in the corner, then what looked to be dozens of handwritten entries into the file about surveillance on Justin and his family. Nothing new that he could see, and he set his folder down and moved to the thinnest file, the one marked “Patient 727.”
This file folder only had 1 thing in it, a photograph that looked to be taken at night from the back of a cargo van with its doors wide open. A man lay unconscious on the shoulder underneath a Highway 81 sign. A small town appears to be in the distance, and handwritten in permanent marker on the photograph, it says “Alive – Geneva, NE.”
Justin leaned up against the counter and stacked the file folders neatly, shaking his head. “Figures.”
“Excuse me?” Cotton queried back, but Justin only shook his head. “Well, if you are done perusing those files, I think that little slip of paper should be taken care of next, if you could sign here and here now.” Justin scribbled his name again, and Cotton took back off towards the living room, in particular, a bookshelf that had been built into the wall.
“Just what I need, a bookshelf I’d have to tear out of the wall.” But as he was making light of the situation, Cotton had reached underneath one of the shelves and flipped a switch, to which the shelving unit sucked into the wall and slid to the side, revealing a secret staircase. “Of course.”
“Down these stairs is a small room, there is nothing left in that room except for a large duffle bag and safe built into the wall. You are to open the safe, put the contents of the safe into the bag, and then come back up so we can finish up.” Standing stoically, Cotton stared back into the kitchen, having obviously read the instructions from a script.
Doing as instructed, Justin made his way down the spiral staircase, and at the bottom an unlocked door. Opening the door, he was met with a little more than what he was instructed.
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
Like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
The entire safe room was lined with mirrors. Dozens of images of Grimm face to face with the Force of Nature, and he nearly went back up the stairs and told the lawyer to forget it, but he pressed on. Unfolding the piece of paper, it revealed a combination. He pushed in the keys…
Seven.
Two.
Seven.
One.
Zero.
Seven.
Eight.
...and then a loud click that signalled that the metal box was unlocked. He bent down to grab the back and then opened the safe. The first thing he grabbed were a dozen or so DVDs, only marked with numbers in sequential order. Underneath them was another file folder with big red letters stating the confidentiality of the file, as well as a written warning in the corner to not open until after watching all the video on the disks. The folder itself was then labeled
The last thing in the safe was almost a shocking as everything else. Stacks upon stacks of bundled hundred dollar bills. There were at least fifty by the time he emptied the safe into the duffle. Not that he needed money at all, it continued to add to the peculiar afternoon.
Exiting the room and back up the stairs as quickly as he could, he gave Cotton a strange look after making it back to the main floor. “I’m not so sure about this…”
“It was left for you, and I’m not to ask about how much–” Coughing, the lawyer corrects himself. “Ask about IT.” He smiles at Justin that friendly yet intimidating smile. “Any questions you have can be taken up with your lawyer.”
Extending his hand back out towards the kitchen, much like he did when inviting Justin inside earlier, Cotton is inviting Justin back to the paperwork, and the last couple of signatures he needs to give before going on his way. “So what are the keys for?” Wasting no more time, Justin is blunt.
Cotton obliges to make things quick with his response. “This house, or at least the four big keys are anyway. It’s currently valued at close to three hundred and fifty, I’d be happy to help you…”
“And what is this little one for?”
“Yes, that one, it said that one was for a safety deposit box somewhere in the US, but there were no address or bank names left for it, nor does the key suggest any particular establishment. All I was left with was a vague hint.” Looking unamused at the situation, Cotton furled his brow, and tilts his head, as if asking for the hint without words. “I’m just supposed to tell you that if you can count, you can find it. Sign here and here.”
Two more signatures, and The Force of Nature’s afternoon in Silent Grove was almost over. Taking the smaller key off of the keyring, he tossed the rest of them at Cotton. “There you go.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t want it, do what you need to with it.” He picked up the duffle bag and shoved the manilla envelope from earlier into it, and headed for the door.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
Justin laughed as he stopped dead in his tracks one last time. The reflection of Grimm in the front window was back, this time from the inside. “Keep it. Sell it. Donate it. I couldn’t care less, I want nothing more to do with the Sorrows, or this place.
Opening the front door, Justin, again, stopped dead in his tracks. There, on the sidewalk, where Grimm appeared in the “reflection” a moment prior, he stood, seemingly in the flesh.
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
GO BACK TO SLEEP!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
GO BACK TO SLEEP!
BA-DA-DUM-CHT
He closed his eyes and clenched them tight, either waiting for the attack, or for his mind to stop playing tricks. Cotton, standing in the front door just like when they met, called out to Justin who was still frozen at the bottom of the porch steps. “I’m not legally capable of doing anything with it, at least, not without your permission in writing.” Opening his eyes, the vision of Grimm was gone.
“Then burn it down!”
