Meeting With Philly in Phillie (Battle Royal)
Feb 6, 2019 15:05:10 GMT -5
Cory Steel, The Anarchist, and 2 more like this
Post by David Hunter on Feb 6, 2019 15:05:10 GMT -5
Philadelphia.
The City of Brotherly Love
Rocky Balboa lived here and he managed to do pretty good. Also they have a broken bell that at one point served as a symbol of American prosperity when rebelling against the British but now serves as a bleak reminder that despite everything seeming okay everything is in fact not okay and everything sucks.
Fuck Philadelphia.
This is what David Hunter thinks. Not that the cold streets of Philadelphia sucks. Not that the citizens of Philadelphia are assholes. Not even that the downtown shop he’s standing in front of contains quite possibly the most dangerous man on the face of Earth.
Nope. It’s fuck Philadelphia.
As David takes a final gulp from whatever cheap liquid the nearby gas station calls alcohol, he glances around at the concrete jungle around him.
“You sure you’re okay with that shit? I mean…I’m no connoisseur or anything but I know what I got in my flask is better than that,” David’s companion says.
After swallowing the vile liquor, David tosses the glass bottle into a nearby trash can. He spits out the remaining taste from his mouth before answering.
“No, it’s fine Qrow. I needed something if I’m gonna continue on in this city, let alone have a conversation with the fucker,” he says.
Qrow just glares at David. There’s something more here that Qrow isn’t connecting.
“It’s not just Phil, is it? There’s something about the city that you can’t stand,” he says.
“Bad memories and even worse actions. I’ve been doing this so long I almost forgot about all the shit that went down here. Kinda puts into perspective that I've been looking for her for so long, but I've never thought about what to say beyond 'I'm sorry',” David says.
He lets another spit wad fly to the ground.
“This is where you and she first met, right?”
David doesn’t respond. Instead, he focuses on the window in front of them.
He lets out a big sigh before fixing his jacket.
“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with,” he says. “You might wanna stay back. Keep an eye on things in case Revy or any other group happens to show up. If shit goes south feel free to pop in.”
“I got it,” Qrow says.
The two share a quick nod.
David walks past the window. When he reaches the shop's door, he opens it up, letting a bell ring throughout the room.
“I’ll be right with you. Apologies for the delay, but I’m still trying to get things reorganized. Just moved here and all that...” a voice says.
It’s coming from below a counter. An older man in a black suit is fixing up a shelf, organizing a bunch of trinkets around in a certain order.
David doesn’t reply. He stands there, hands at his side, waiting patiently for the man to be done.
It takes maybe another couple minutes, but the older man finishes with the shelf. He grabs a nearby cane, reaching his feet.
When he turns around, a smile he had immediately switches to a scowl.
David can’t help himself. He has to throw out a smirk.
It’s not often Mr. Phillip Silver gets angry.
Mr. Silver sets the cane on the counter, his eyes never leaving David, who himself has yet to move.
The two just stare at each other, assessing the situation and the reason for their meeting.
In a rare form of defeat, or just losing himself in curiosity, it is Mr. Silver who speaks up first.
“I’m assuming you’re here to cash in that favor?” he asks.
David merely shrugs.
Mr. Silver’s right eye twitches a bit.
“Of course. Why else would I ever get your company but for the favor?”
David’s smirk drops to something of a pout.
“Now that’s just mean. I’ve seen you plenty of times for reasons other than a favor,” he says.
“Yes, well, that was before you decided to hook yourself up to the next big bad in a poor attempt at neutrality,” Mr. Silver responds.
“Given my circumstances I would say I’m doing a pretty good job at it.”
“I wouldn’t consider pissing off Two Hands or getting Nio involved a ‘pretty good job’.”
“Considering your own history with Mr. Miles and Miss Lazuli, I’m pretty sure the only one here with a poor sense of neutrality is you.”
Mr. Silver’s fists clench.
Got him.
All the same, he doesn’t speak anything more. He merely grips his cane, stepping out from behind the counter to stand in front of it, accessing his conversation partner more closely.
“So…what will it be? Freedom from the big bad? A head start on the troublesome trio of troupes? Perhaps a meeting with Mr. Miles personally? I’m sure he’d love to teach you about using both hands,” he says.
“If it’s all the same, I only need one. And if I wanted to meet with him I’d just use Revy as leverage. As for your other queries, a big fat no and the ‘troublesome trio of troupes’ are already trippin over their collective dicks. They’re too focused on the big bad and are way too convinced that I’m the key to capturing him,” David says.
“We both know your father isn’t the smartest man.”
“Understatement of the fucking year. Alas, the answer to all those questions is still no. I’m cashing in my favor to figure out where somebody is.”
Mr. Silver shakes his head, already letting out another sigh.
“You know that her location was hidden, right? Nobody knows where she is. I can’t help you find her,” he says.
David reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out the picture from the RV, the one with the man called Max Daemon and a few other companions. He unfolds it, revealing the photo to Mr. Silver.
“She’s my end goal, but in order to find her I need something that this man…” David points at Max in the bottom right corner. “…presently has. The Crow’s Eyes. Unless you want to tell me he doesn’t have it—which we both know he does—I’d like to know where Mr. Daemon is going to be for the next week.”
Mr. Silver takes the photo from David. He examines each individual in the picture. Max, the woman to his left, the older gentlemen above them, and the person in the top left corner.
“Where did you get this?” Mr. Silver asks.
“Max had an RV in Phoenix he left to rot. Which reminds me, you of all people should know not to fuck with the Wizarding World. If you were that desperate, the Council or Peacekeeper would’ve helped,” David says.
Mr. Silver ignores David’s prodding. He lets out a sigh.
“This picture is an interesting one. Two of the people in it are dead while the other two are roaming souls. Mind if I keep it?” he asks.
“I don’t care if you stuff it up your ass. Tell me where Max is and you can hang it in the Louvre,” David says.
Mr. Silver shakes his head at the statement. As crass and arrogant as ever.
Some kids…
“I can’t guarantee he’ll be there given his recent…tendencies, but Max Daemon is set for a wrestling event down south. He carries everything he owns with him, so if he has this…Crow’s Eyes, you’ll be able to take it while he’s busy,” Mr. Silver says.
There’s a few moments of pause, before Mr. Silver reveals a smirk of his own.
“Unless of course…you’re going to confront him,” he says.
David looks at the smirk, narrowing his eyes. Tentatively, he responds.
“Of course I am,” he says.
Mr. Silver chuckles for a few moments. A few very tense moments.
David picks up on this fast.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
Mr. Silver shakes his head.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that Max Daemon has signed up for an interesting match in an interesting company,” he says.
“Okay?”
“Yes, apparently the Tampa Bay Wrestling Academy has decided to put on a memorial show for their recently fallen legend: Frank Hunter.”
Whoa.
Hold up.
Gotta work on my swing.
Reverse.
Rewind.
Time out. David Hunter.
Clock is to be reset to 3:55.
The emotions run wild on David’s face, all masked by widened eyes and a locked jaw.
Mr. Silver starts to laugh at this. Not just a basic laugh either, like a full-on belly laugh.
However, when David tilts his head to crack his neck, Mr. Silver stops.
The two lock eyes. Two tremendously influential people in The Game are going head-to-head.
Mr. Silver as the veteran information broker and David Hunter as the neutral but highly successful mercenary/contact.
“Are you absolutely sure?” David asks, all cockiness and joy gone.
“I wouldn’t have laughed so hard if I wasn’t. The event is being held by your sister and step-mother. Your father isn’t set to make an appearance, but given the circumstances, I don’t have to tell you it’s a trap.”
“Dad is always obvious with this shit. Not sure if it’s old age or just arrogance.”
“That would explain where you got yours from. Nonetheless, Max Daemon is scheduled to wrestle at the event. Should you show up, I would expect a fight from all three sides, and should you happen to face Mr. Daemon in a battle, I warn you he is highly skilled in the dual-wielding method.”
“Who taught him?” David asks.
“The wandering member of the Twin Twins.”
David’s right fist clenches. Of course...
“You’re pretty happy right now, aren’t you?” he asks.
“I’m elated. It’s not every day you get to see the iconic David Hunter nervous, let alone afraid. What’s wrong? All that arrogance lost now that you have to face the past you created?” Mr. Silver asks.
“No. Far from it actually. I know I’d be facing my past whenever I find her. Speaking of pasts people create, how’s Mr. Miles doing after he nearly killed that kid? What was his name? Ah man, he was so close to Lapis too. Wasn’t she just so devastated when he almost shot him between his eyes?”
The two lock eyes once more, neither bending nor breaking.
“I’m sure I don’t need to warn you that I can still fight,” Mr. Silver.
“And you’re still technically the guardian for Nathan right? I know the Council wouldn’t let somebody like him go without proper guidance. Near as I can tell, that bastard should stay in a cage.” David.
“Yes, because you’re an innocent soul?”
“Hell no, but even I know not to fuck with children. Near as I can tell, Wuya can join him to rot with whatever pathetic life she tries to live. Fuck it, let ‘em all die. You think I give two shits about anybody working with this guy? As always, my goals are my own. It just so happens I’ve been hired to work with them, and a good job is hard to find now-a-days.”
“No it’s not. You just love The Game too much. You’ve become lost in it. Obsessed by it. You longed for a catalyst to fix your mistakes for so long that as soon as Wuya showed up, you embraced it. You can regret it now, but we both know those are worthless. Despite all your posturing, all your grandstanding, all your gun-toting and job-taking, all your patronizing and deprecation, you’re still just trying to make up for the fake that you are the reason she’s dead.”
“This is your one warning.”
“How typical. Somebody calls you out and your response is to kill them. I know you might be more mature than most people your age, but you’re still only 23. You have a lot more to learn if you think killing anybody willing to call your bluff is a long lasting response. Face facts, David…you can talk about staying neutral and staying in the game and finding your girl all you want, but it won’t change the fact that you will never forgive yourself for betting on the wrong horse. The same horse that ended up killing your mother.”
A pistol is drawn. It cocks and aims at Mr. Silver.
The bullet doesn’t even escape the chamber before the front of it is encased in a block of ice. Meanwhile, a few tendrils of water form around David, wrapping around his neck and the arm with the pistol. A sharp icicle is also pointed up from the ground into his stomach.
Behind Mr. Silver stands a woman with dark blue pants and a blue top. Oh, and I guess she has blue skin. That’s not important. The most important part is her hands are up, scowling deeply while staring at David.
The front door opens, and a gun is cocked towards the woman. Qrow stands behind David, his mecha-rifle pointed and deadest on the woman’s stomach, knowing the important piece of her structure residing on the opposite side.
The four souls remain in silence. Neither side reacts.
David blinks his eyes a couple times. Mr. Silver’s grip on his cane loosens. He sets it back onto the counter while David lets his pistol drop to the floor.
This domino effect allows the blue woman to lower her hands. The icicle in the floor turns almost directly into water, while the other tendrils surrounding and grabbing David fall to the floor in a mass of puddles.
Qrow follows suit and transforms his mecha-weapon back into its standstill form. He returns it to his back.
“Tampa Bay. Lydia and Steph are holding a show for TBWA in Frank’s honor. Totally a trap. Still need to talk to Max and get the Crow’s Eyes. Max trained in the dual-wielding to the point of probably being nearly as good as the Twin Twins. That it?” David asks.
“You still have Two Hands,” Mr. Silver says.
“Right, Revy. She’s probably stuck in Michigan or Minnesota. Her attire doesn’t really leave much to desire when it comes to surviving the cold,” David says.
Mr. Silver glances down at the picture placed on his counter.
“If that will be all, Mr Hunter—”
David looks up, locking eyes with Mr. Silver who realizes the mistake.
“Apologies. If that will be all…David…I believe we can consider your favor paid in full, hm? So please…get the fuck out of my shop,” Mr. Silver says.
“Fair enough. Nice seeing you Mr. Silver. Lapis…” David says, scowling over towards the blue woman.
She merely raises a middle finger in response.
Classy. Not his fault she's a cheater. Alien powers—let alone gem ones—are one step below magic on the cheaters scale.
Qrow opens the front door, allowing David the chance to turn and leave.
Once he has left, Qrow keeps glaring at Lapis, who returns it in kind. When David has turned from the entrance, walking down the street, Qrow closes the door.
He catches up to David, who has stopped in front of an alleyway. Qrow grabs him by the shoulder, shoving him into a nearby wall.
“What the fuck happened in there?” Qrow asks.
“It got out of my control,” David says.
“Bullshit. You’ve gotten plenty of things out of control before and managed to get them back under wraps. I repeat: what the fuck happened in there?”
David looks down at the ground. Qrow reels back a bit, letting go of the shoulder.
Qrow can’t help but feel…disappointed, in a way. Not in David, but just in general. Here he is, watching a kid like David, who, for the first time he’s seeing, looks…legitimately guilty.
It’s scary.
It also doesn’t help that a few water drops are starting to form in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh…” Qrow says.
“He brought up what happened to Mom. I tried to keep it together, but…I guess he’s one of the few who can make me lose it, huh? Guess that hasn’t changed,” David says.
Qrow can barely make out through the mumbling and sadness, but a halfhearted ‘I’m sorry’ escapes the 23-year-old’s lips.
Feeling out of his depth, Qrow takes out his flask. He offers it to David, who grabs it, taking a big gulp.
Once the majority of the flask's contents now belongs in David’s stomach, he hands it back to Qrow. The dusty older man has the decency to look away as the much younger David wipes his eyes.
After taking a few more moments to gather his thoughts and ruffle out his jacket, David starts over again.
“Sorry. I guess after 13 years that’s still a touchy subject. Philly did have a point though. It’s a pretty bad oversight and an easily exploitable weakness on my end,” he says.
“And that’s the end of that conversation. Everybody has a weakness, kiddo. That’s not a bad thing,” Qrow says.
“Yeah, easy for you to say. All of your weaknesses are at Beacon…”
Qrow just looks at David. Like, actually looks at him, not just glances and shit.
“Not all of them…” he mumbles to himself.
David picks this up though.
“What, is Ruby suddenly a part of the Peacekeepers or some shit? I know it ain’t Winter. That ship’s sailed long ago pal,” he says.
Qrow shakes his head. He pats David on his shoulder before shoving him back into the street.
“Forget it. So, next stop, Tampa?” Qrow asks.
“So it appears…” David says.
While David steps out of the alley, Qrow shifts into his avian form. Without looking, Qrow, now in the form of his eponymous bird, flies onto David’s shoulder.
“I’ve always hated homecomings…” David says once more.
A squawk is all he gets in response.
-------------------------------------------------
A camera phone turns on. David is sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. Qrow is seen in the backseat, laying out and snoring quietly.
“Hey everybody, who’s ready for some more action, ey?
Yeah let’s not beat around the bush here, this match is going to suck for everybody involved. Tyler Scott managed to beat me last week because a referee decided to go into business for himself. The same referee reffing this match. Sure, you could argue he has the final authority, but so did the referees in the Saints game, and guess what assholes? They missed a pretty blatant call. I get that refs make mistakes, but when you make a big one like, I don’t know, me kicking out before three, you should probably be questioned about the validity of your job.
Considering it was Ed Lane of all people—a guy more dubious than even me—I really shouldn’t be surprised. I guess it was easier to screw me out of the title than to face the facts that he sucks.
Whatever. Tyler Scott won’t have the same luck twice considering the goal of this match isn’t pinfalls so much as it is throwing somebody over the top and to the floor. So yeah, no form of bullshit count can save Tyler this week. He can certainly try, though the participation of three other people will probably stop any attempts he might have.
But enough about Tyler. Let’s talk about Alexa Black. That’s certainly a fun topic.
She’s been a bit busy fuckin around with Joey Handy to focus on much else, but if it makes her happy being such a tsundere for him I won’t blame her. Have you seen Joey Handy? Dude is absolutely husband material. Alexa, I understand where you’re coming from. I think you’re just coming at it the wrong way. I mean, stalking somebody never leads to what you want.
Trust me. I know.
But hey, you seem to be having fun with it, so who am I to judge? Enjoy yourselves you crazy lovebirds. Maybe once I get back my crown I’ll preside over your wedding.
Then there’s Cory Steel. A guy who looks like he could kick anybody’s ass.
Or…lives on the Denver railway with a bottle of suspiciously discolored Mt. Dew.
Either way, his participation in the match will be not be unlike Tyler’s. Neither fun, but both definitely counteracted by having to throw people over the top versus pinning them.
The main difference is that Cory isn’t coming into this champion. He won’t be leaving it either, but it kinda puts into perspective the position he’s in. What’s he doing? Why is he in this match? What will he do to win?
Why does his picture make him look like he smells of beer and weed? Or weed in beer?
And last but not least, there’s my newfound ally in Holden Ross. Why are we together? What’s the main goals here?
To be honest, we both realize we want success in PCW. It’s mostly a matter of principle more than anything else. If we don’t team-up, than who will?
Basically, I don’t need to tell anybody why we’re allies because two people don’t need a reason to align.
As I walk into this match, it’s not about Cory or Holden or Alexa or Tyler. It’s about me winning back the crown that was unfairly stolen from me last Trauma. And as we prepare for Mass Destruction in the near future, I find it fitting. A monarch has never had the ultimate power of unleashing a nuclear weapon to result in the previously unseen devastation that one provides.
Yet here I sit, the once and future king, with the privilege of walking into this battle royal and being able to dish out the mass destruction one of them would cause.
It’d be an honor to be able to stand there in front of the mushroom cloud, three of my opponents crumbling to dust and one of them by my side as I hold my title high to the orange sky…once again…the King…of the Underground.”
In the backseat, Qrow starts fidgeting.
“Looks like the old man’s up. Time to go.”
Qrow can be heard speaking.
“Who you calling old man…?” he asks.
The camera cuts to black.
The City of Brotherly Love
Rocky Balboa lived here and he managed to do pretty good. Also they have a broken bell that at one point served as a symbol of American prosperity when rebelling against the British but now serves as a bleak reminder that despite everything seeming okay everything is in fact not okay and everything sucks.
Fuck Philadelphia.
This is what David Hunter thinks. Not that the cold streets of Philadelphia sucks. Not that the citizens of Philadelphia are assholes. Not even that the downtown shop he’s standing in front of contains quite possibly the most dangerous man on the face of Earth.
Nope. It’s fuck Philadelphia.
As David takes a final gulp from whatever cheap liquid the nearby gas station calls alcohol, he glances around at the concrete jungle around him.
“You sure you’re okay with that shit? I mean…I’m no connoisseur or anything but I know what I got in my flask is better than that,” David’s companion says.
After swallowing the vile liquor, David tosses the glass bottle into a nearby trash can. He spits out the remaining taste from his mouth before answering.
“No, it’s fine Qrow. I needed something if I’m gonna continue on in this city, let alone have a conversation with the fucker,” he says.
Qrow just glares at David. There’s something more here that Qrow isn’t connecting.
“It’s not just Phil, is it? There’s something about the city that you can’t stand,” he says.
“Bad memories and even worse actions. I’ve been doing this so long I almost forgot about all the shit that went down here. Kinda puts into perspective that I've been looking for her for so long, but I've never thought about what to say beyond 'I'm sorry',” David says.
He lets another spit wad fly to the ground.
“This is where you and she first met, right?”
David doesn’t respond. Instead, he focuses on the window in front of them.
He lets out a big sigh before fixing his jacket.
“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with,” he says. “You might wanna stay back. Keep an eye on things in case Revy or any other group happens to show up. If shit goes south feel free to pop in.”
“I got it,” Qrow says.
The two share a quick nod.
David walks past the window. When he reaches the shop's door, he opens it up, letting a bell ring throughout the room.
“I’ll be right with you. Apologies for the delay, but I’m still trying to get things reorganized. Just moved here and all that...” a voice says.
It’s coming from below a counter. An older man in a black suit is fixing up a shelf, organizing a bunch of trinkets around in a certain order.
David doesn’t reply. He stands there, hands at his side, waiting patiently for the man to be done.
It takes maybe another couple minutes, but the older man finishes with the shelf. He grabs a nearby cane, reaching his feet.
When he turns around, a smile he had immediately switches to a scowl.
David can’t help himself. He has to throw out a smirk.
It’s not often Mr. Phillip Silver gets angry.
Mr. Silver sets the cane on the counter, his eyes never leaving David, who himself has yet to move.
The two just stare at each other, assessing the situation and the reason for their meeting.
In a rare form of defeat, or just losing himself in curiosity, it is Mr. Silver who speaks up first.
“I’m assuming you’re here to cash in that favor?” he asks.
David merely shrugs.
Mr. Silver’s right eye twitches a bit.
“Of course. Why else would I ever get your company but for the favor?”
David’s smirk drops to something of a pout.
“Now that’s just mean. I’ve seen you plenty of times for reasons other than a favor,” he says.
“Yes, well, that was before you decided to hook yourself up to the next big bad in a poor attempt at neutrality,” Mr. Silver responds.
“Given my circumstances I would say I’m doing a pretty good job at it.”
“I wouldn’t consider pissing off Two Hands or getting Nio involved a ‘pretty good job’.”
“Considering your own history with Mr. Miles and Miss Lazuli, I’m pretty sure the only one here with a poor sense of neutrality is you.”
Mr. Silver’s fists clench.
Got him.
All the same, he doesn’t speak anything more. He merely grips his cane, stepping out from behind the counter to stand in front of it, accessing his conversation partner more closely.
“So…what will it be? Freedom from the big bad? A head start on the troublesome trio of troupes? Perhaps a meeting with Mr. Miles personally? I’m sure he’d love to teach you about using both hands,” he says.
“If it’s all the same, I only need one. And if I wanted to meet with him I’d just use Revy as leverage. As for your other queries, a big fat no and the ‘troublesome trio of troupes’ are already trippin over their collective dicks. They’re too focused on the big bad and are way too convinced that I’m the key to capturing him,” David says.
“We both know your father isn’t the smartest man.”
“Understatement of the fucking year. Alas, the answer to all those questions is still no. I’m cashing in my favor to figure out where somebody is.”
Mr. Silver shakes his head, already letting out another sigh.
“You know that her location was hidden, right? Nobody knows where she is. I can’t help you find her,” he says.
David reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out the picture from the RV, the one with the man called Max Daemon and a few other companions. He unfolds it, revealing the photo to Mr. Silver.
“She’s my end goal, but in order to find her I need something that this man…” David points at Max in the bottom right corner. “…presently has. The Crow’s Eyes. Unless you want to tell me he doesn’t have it—which we both know he does—I’d like to know where Mr. Daemon is going to be for the next week.”
Mr. Silver takes the photo from David. He examines each individual in the picture. Max, the woman to his left, the older gentlemen above them, and the person in the top left corner.
“Where did you get this?” Mr. Silver asks.
“Max had an RV in Phoenix he left to rot. Which reminds me, you of all people should know not to fuck with the Wizarding World. If you were that desperate, the Council or Peacekeeper would’ve helped,” David says.
Mr. Silver ignores David’s prodding. He lets out a sigh.
“This picture is an interesting one. Two of the people in it are dead while the other two are roaming souls. Mind if I keep it?” he asks.
“I don’t care if you stuff it up your ass. Tell me where Max is and you can hang it in the Louvre,” David says.
Mr. Silver shakes his head at the statement. As crass and arrogant as ever.
Some kids…
“I can’t guarantee he’ll be there given his recent…tendencies, but Max Daemon is set for a wrestling event down south. He carries everything he owns with him, so if he has this…Crow’s Eyes, you’ll be able to take it while he’s busy,” Mr. Silver says.
There’s a few moments of pause, before Mr. Silver reveals a smirk of his own.
“Unless of course…you’re going to confront him,” he says.
David looks at the smirk, narrowing his eyes. Tentatively, he responds.
“Of course I am,” he says.
Mr. Silver chuckles for a few moments. A few very tense moments.
David picks up on this fast.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
Mr. Silver shakes his head.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that Max Daemon has signed up for an interesting match in an interesting company,” he says.
“Okay?”
“Yes, apparently the Tampa Bay Wrestling Academy has decided to put on a memorial show for their recently fallen legend: Frank Hunter.”
Whoa.
Hold up.
Gotta work on my swing.
Reverse.
Rewind.
Time out. David Hunter.
Clock is to be reset to 3:55.
The emotions run wild on David’s face, all masked by widened eyes and a locked jaw.
Mr. Silver starts to laugh at this. Not just a basic laugh either, like a full-on belly laugh.
However, when David tilts his head to crack his neck, Mr. Silver stops.
The two lock eyes. Two tremendously influential people in The Game are going head-to-head.
Mr. Silver as the veteran information broker and David Hunter as the neutral but highly successful mercenary/contact.
“Are you absolutely sure?” David asks, all cockiness and joy gone.
“I wouldn’t have laughed so hard if I wasn’t. The event is being held by your sister and step-mother. Your father isn’t set to make an appearance, but given the circumstances, I don’t have to tell you it’s a trap.”
“Dad is always obvious with this shit. Not sure if it’s old age or just arrogance.”
“That would explain where you got yours from. Nonetheless, Max Daemon is scheduled to wrestle at the event. Should you show up, I would expect a fight from all three sides, and should you happen to face Mr. Daemon in a battle, I warn you he is highly skilled in the dual-wielding method.”
“Who taught him?” David asks.
“The wandering member of the Twin Twins.”
David’s right fist clenches. Of course...
“You’re pretty happy right now, aren’t you?” he asks.
“I’m elated. It’s not every day you get to see the iconic David Hunter nervous, let alone afraid. What’s wrong? All that arrogance lost now that you have to face the past you created?” Mr. Silver asks.
“No. Far from it actually. I know I’d be facing my past whenever I find her. Speaking of pasts people create, how’s Mr. Miles doing after he nearly killed that kid? What was his name? Ah man, he was so close to Lapis too. Wasn’t she just so devastated when he almost shot him between his eyes?”
The two lock eyes once more, neither bending nor breaking.
“I’m sure I don’t need to warn you that I can still fight,” Mr. Silver.
“And you’re still technically the guardian for Nathan right? I know the Council wouldn’t let somebody like him go without proper guidance. Near as I can tell, that bastard should stay in a cage.” David.
“Yes, because you’re an innocent soul?”
“Hell no, but even I know not to fuck with children. Near as I can tell, Wuya can join him to rot with whatever pathetic life she tries to live. Fuck it, let ‘em all die. You think I give two shits about anybody working with this guy? As always, my goals are my own. It just so happens I’ve been hired to work with them, and a good job is hard to find now-a-days.”
“No it’s not. You just love The Game too much. You’ve become lost in it. Obsessed by it. You longed for a catalyst to fix your mistakes for so long that as soon as Wuya showed up, you embraced it. You can regret it now, but we both know those are worthless. Despite all your posturing, all your grandstanding, all your gun-toting and job-taking, all your patronizing and deprecation, you’re still just trying to make up for the fake that you are the reason she’s dead.”
“This is your one warning.”
“How typical. Somebody calls you out and your response is to kill them. I know you might be more mature than most people your age, but you’re still only 23. You have a lot more to learn if you think killing anybody willing to call your bluff is a long lasting response. Face facts, David…you can talk about staying neutral and staying in the game and finding your girl all you want, but it won’t change the fact that you will never forgive yourself for betting on the wrong horse. The same horse that ended up killing your mother.”
A pistol is drawn. It cocks and aims at Mr. Silver.
The bullet doesn’t even escape the chamber before the front of it is encased in a block of ice. Meanwhile, a few tendrils of water form around David, wrapping around his neck and the arm with the pistol. A sharp icicle is also pointed up from the ground into his stomach.
Behind Mr. Silver stands a woman with dark blue pants and a blue top. Oh, and I guess she has blue skin. That’s not important. The most important part is her hands are up, scowling deeply while staring at David.
The front door opens, and a gun is cocked towards the woman. Qrow stands behind David, his mecha-rifle pointed and deadest on the woman’s stomach, knowing the important piece of her structure residing on the opposite side.
The four souls remain in silence. Neither side reacts.
David blinks his eyes a couple times. Mr. Silver’s grip on his cane loosens. He sets it back onto the counter while David lets his pistol drop to the floor.
This domino effect allows the blue woman to lower her hands. The icicle in the floor turns almost directly into water, while the other tendrils surrounding and grabbing David fall to the floor in a mass of puddles.
Qrow follows suit and transforms his mecha-weapon back into its standstill form. He returns it to his back.
“Tampa Bay. Lydia and Steph are holding a show for TBWA in Frank’s honor. Totally a trap. Still need to talk to Max and get the Crow’s Eyes. Max trained in the dual-wielding to the point of probably being nearly as good as the Twin Twins. That it?” David asks.
“You still have Two Hands,” Mr. Silver says.
“Right, Revy. She’s probably stuck in Michigan or Minnesota. Her attire doesn’t really leave much to desire when it comes to surviving the cold,” David says.
Mr. Silver glances down at the picture placed on his counter.
“If that will be all, Mr Hunter—”
David looks up, locking eyes with Mr. Silver who realizes the mistake.
“Apologies. If that will be all…David…I believe we can consider your favor paid in full, hm? So please…get the fuck out of my shop,” Mr. Silver says.
“Fair enough. Nice seeing you Mr. Silver. Lapis…” David says, scowling over towards the blue woman.
She merely raises a middle finger in response.
Classy. Not his fault she's a cheater. Alien powers—let alone gem ones—are one step below magic on the cheaters scale.
Qrow opens the front door, allowing David the chance to turn and leave.
Once he has left, Qrow keeps glaring at Lapis, who returns it in kind. When David has turned from the entrance, walking down the street, Qrow closes the door.
He catches up to David, who has stopped in front of an alleyway. Qrow grabs him by the shoulder, shoving him into a nearby wall.
“What the fuck happened in there?” Qrow asks.
“It got out of my control,” David says.
“Bullshit. You’ve gotten plenty of things out of control before and managed to get them back under wraps. I repeat: what the fuck happened in there?”
David looks down at the ground. Qrow reels back a bit, letting go of the shoulder.
Qrow can’t help but feel…disappointed, in a way. Not in David, but just in general. Here he is, watching a kid like David, who, for the first time he’s seeing, looks…legitimately guilty.
It’s scary.
It also doesn’t help that a few water drops are starting to form in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh…” Qrow says.
“He brought up what happened to Mom. I tried to keep it together, but…I guess he’s one of the few who can make me lose it, huh? Guess that hasn’t changed,” David says.
Qrow can barely make out through the mumbling and sadness, but a halfhearted ‘I’m sorry’ escapes the 23-year-old’s lips.
Feeling out of his depth, Qrow takes out his flask. He offers it to David, who grabs it, taking a big gulp.
Once the majority of the flask's contents now belongs in David’s stomach, he hands it back to Qrow. The dusty older man has the decency to look away as the much younger David wipes his eyes.
After taking a few more moments to gather his thoughts and ruffle out his jacket, David starts over again.
“Sorry. I guess after 13 years that’s still a touchy subject. Philly did have a point though. It’s a pretty bad oversight and an easily exploitable weakness on my end,” he says.
“And that’s the end of that conversation. Everybody has a weakness, kiddo. That’s not a bad thing,” Qrow says.
“Yeah, easy for you to say. All of your weaknesses are at Beacon…”
Qrow just looks at David. Like, actually looks at him, not just glances and shit.
“Not all of them…” he mumbles to himself.
David picks this up though.
“What, is Ruby suddenly a part of the Peacekeepers or some shit? I know it ain’t Winter. That ship’s sailed long ago pal,” he says.
Qrow shakes his head. He pats David on his shoulder before shoving him back into the street.
“Forget it. So, next stop, Tampa?” Qrow asks.
“So it appears…” David says.
While David steps out of the alley, Qrow shifts into his avian form. Without looking, Qrow, now in the form of his eponymous bird, flies onto David’s shoulder.
“I’ve always hated homecomings…” David says once more.
A squawk is all he gets in response.
-------------------------------------------------
A camera phone turns on. David is sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. Qrow is seen in the backseat, laying out and snoring quietly.
“Hey everybody, who’s ready for some more action, ey?
Yeah let’s not beat around the bush here, this match is going to suck for everybody involved. Tyler Scott managed to beat me last week because a referee decided to go into business for himself. The same referee reffing this match. Sure, you could argue he has the final authority, but so did the referees in the Saints game, and guess what assholes? They missed a pretty blatant call. I get that refs make mistakes, but when you make a big one like, I don’t know, me kicking out before three, you should probably be questioned about the validity of your job.
Considering it was Ed Lane of all people—a guy more dubious than even me—I really shouldn’t be surprised. I guess it was easier to screw me out of the title than to face the facts that he sucks.
Whatever. Tyler Scott won’t have the same luck twice considering the goal of this match isn’t pinfalls so much as it is throwing somebody over the top and to the floor. So yeah, no form of bullshit count can save Tyler this week. He can certainly try, though the participation of three other people will probably stop any attempts he might have.
But enough about Tyler. Let’s talk about Alexa Black. That’s certainly a fun topic.
She’s been a bit busy fuckin around with Joey Handy to focus on much else, but if it makes her happy being such a tsundere for him I won’t blame her. Have you seen Joey Handy? Dude is absolutely husband material. Alexa, I understand where you’re coming from. I think you’re just coming at it the wrong way. I mean, stalking somebody never leads to what you want.
Trust me. I know.
But hey, you seem to be having fun with it, so who am I to judge? Enjoy yourselves you crazy lovebirds. Maybe once I get back my crown I’ll preside over your wedding.
Then there’s Cory Steel. A guy who looks like he could kick anybody’s ass.
Or…lives on the Denver railway with a bottle of suspiciously discolored Mt. Dew.
Either way, his participation in the match will be not be unlike Tyler’s. Neither fun, but both definitely counteracted by having to throw people over the top versus pinning them.
The main difference is that Cory isn’t coming into this champion. He won’t be leaving it either, but it kinda puts into perspective the position he’s in. What’s he doing? Why is he in this match? What will he do to win?
Why does his picture make him look like he smells of beer and weed? Or weed in beer?
And last but not least, there’s my newfound ally in Holden Ross. Why are we together? What’s the main goals here?
To be honest, we both realize we want success in PCW. It’s mostly a matter of principle more than anything else. If we don’t team-up, than who will?
Basically, I don’t need to tell anybody why we’re allies because two people don’t need a reason to align.
As I walk into this match, it’s not about Cory or Holden or Alexa or Tyler. It’s about me winning back the crown that was unfairly stolen from me last Trauma. And as we prepare for Mass Destruction in the near future, I find it fitting. A monarch has never had the ultimate power of unleashing a nuclear weapon to result in the previously unseen devastation that one provides.
Yet here I sit, the once and future king, with the privilege of walking into this battle royal and being able to dish out the mass destruction one of them would cause.
It’d be an honor to be able to stand there in front of the mushroom cloud, three of my opponents crumbling to dust and one of them by my side as I hold my title high to the orange sky…once again…the King…of the Underground.”
In the backseat, Qrow starts fidgeting.
“Looks like the old man’s up. Time to go.”
Qrow can be heard speaking.
“Who you calling old man…?” he asks.
The camera cuts to black.
