Post by kadenkeene on Nov 11, 2006 1:54:45 GMT -5
The noise that came from Kaden's throat was something a combination of letters cannot convey. It came from his stomach, grated his throat, and exploded through his lips. Simply, it was as much beast as it was man. Along with it, the clattering and shattering of ceramic and glass, the thudding of wood hitting wood, and all the shaking that came with it. He punted a crack in the bottom of the overturned table, still not satisfied. He wanted more.
Kaden's fingers clamped the refrigerator in an almost cartoonish way, and it tumbled over with ease. For a moment, in his red anger, he thought it would send the whole scene crashing through the floor.
Another opportunity, another failure. A step too late. He had seen the prize now for a fortnight and had yet to make good, collect his due reward. He was so close, he was so close, he was so close, hewassoclose, hewassoclose, hewassoclosehewassoclosehewassoclose....
With a display of power more vulgar than any yet, Kaden threw a kick into the side of the refrigerator that would have crippled a man, sending it skidding across the kitchen, and spilling into the living room. It slowly tipped, falling on its side. The door fell open, and the few items inside fell out. His blood...the bags...
No. The small IV bags would not do. His thirst was borne from anger, from hatred, and it would not be slaked by cold blood. He had spilled his own on the floor of his living room this time, broken teeth shattered and scattered across his apartment. His couch would forever bear the stains of his blood now, and he would not let it go to waste. Not this time.
Tonight, someone would die.
******
"You got jelly? Man, I hate jelly!"
James O'Neal held the powder donut in a pinch above the bag, as if even the sight of it disgusted him. Pat Jones shrugged as he stuffed the last of his bearclaw in his mouth.
"Fucking jelly? Fucking jelly. Great. Nevermind." James said, dropping the donut into the bad and tossing it in his partner's lap.
"More for me," Pat said, again with a shrug. "Whassamatter, Jimmy? Carol not cooking lately?"
James groaned. "Oh don't even get me started on that one. You'd think that after all this time she--"
"All cars, we've got a 415 at 315 Broad Street, Mauldin."
"Shit..." James said, taking the radio from its cradle. "Home, this is Echo Bravo 10, we're in vicinity."
"Copy, Echo Bravo."
"Third time this week! Jesus, this guy is a loon," Pat said, removing the powder donut from the bag. "Let's take him in this time?"
"Fuckin' right we are."
James hit the lights, and sped away from the Donut Hole. They had been called to this address three times this week, and about a dozen over the past month. Every time it was the same; they knock, this guy would answer. They'd ask to come in, he'd let them. They ask some questions, he'd act like everything was normal. No bruises, no wife, no girlfriend. The neighbors said they heard screaming coming from the place at all hours of the night, but nobody ever saw anyone coming or going from the place besides him. James just figured him as a nutjob. Gave him a ticket once or twice, but the guy always said he had no idea what the big deal was.
James had met some odd ducks in his time on the force, and this guy didn't seem half as strange as most of them. He never saw him as a threat.
That would all change tonight.
As the cruiser rolled to a stop at the sidewalk in front of the dilapidated building, another car rolled up behind them. A guy, a really big guy, jumped out, leaving his door open, and ran up the stairs like a bolt of lightning, disappearing into the place.
James and Pat shot each other a look.
"Let's go."
******
His head was hot, but he didn't feel it. He ran a fever, but he didn't feel sick. It was what soldiers called "battle fever," and James Keenan had felt it before. He called it "blacking out," or "going red," but no matter what he called it, when it happened, he couldn't be responsible for what happened next.
He made his way up the stairs faster than a man his size should be able to, churning his powerful legs like two errant trains on a collision course. He pumped his massive arms, and he nearly floated up the four narrow flights. His boots didn't even seem to touch the stairs, but in reality they pounded wood and rubber like an earthquake.
So close...he was so close...
And before he knew it, the door was before him. The apartment of the man he used to call a friend, a partner. The last time he was here, Kaden and James had gotten past the strange few weeks previous, and shared a laugh and some stories on the roof. Kaden had told his new agent to fuck off, and James had thought that maybe the old Kaden was coming back. James took that conversation as the two of them fixing cracks in the armor, and he thought every word to be true.
That was his mistake.
His friend, his partner, stabbed him in the back and left him for two men to beat and claim victory over. James fought valiantly, but ultimately, the two called Menace and Jackal were too strong for one man. He lost his gold (as if it wasn't gone when Kaden dropped him in the ring) and effectively lost his status; he was no longer sniffing the main event any longer, as he now opened the shows. Why? Because Kaden had taken the lead, proving that he was the Alpha, and had moved on, leaving James behind.
There was no room in wrestling for two former partners at the top. Never has been, never will be. Always, one will rise and one will fall. Kaden had a chance to win a shot at the PCW's most coveted prize, while James wrestled a woman to warm the crowd.
Even if James were to win the PCW Championship, he would forever hate the man who had lied to him, turned his back on him when he needed him the most. He would never forget. He would make hi--
The door exploded out, and James fell to the floor. A chair just missed taking his head off, clattering and snapping down the stairs behind him. When James stood up...
"What the fuck..."
Standing just inside the door was something that looked like Kaden, but wasn't, somehow...long, sharp daggers for teeth filled his mouth, his fingers were longer and curled and warped, his lips were...oh god...
"You son of a bitch!" It seethed, arching its back and somehow baring its teeth more. Its lips were spread in a way that nearly made James vomit; the top nearly touching between its eyes, and the bottom wrapped under its chin. It was like a living mask, this things face.
"K-Kaden...?"
"Fuck off, rock star! You fucked me, you son of a bitch!"
Then, it came back. The rush of adrenaline that had made so many heroes in wars throughout history was back, and James would not waste it.
He charged, not knowing or caring what had happened to his friend; that question was for another time. Right now was for vengeance, and James Keenan would have it. He hurdled the remaining chunk of door and snatched Kaden's blood-soaked shirt. He shoved, leaning in with all his momentum and weight into him, but...he didn't move...
They were inches apart, nearly nose to nose, and James' snarl fell from his face. Somehow, the beast managed a satisfied smile. Before he could even think, James was flying across the apartment, crashing upside down against the wall. He bounced, and just managed to get his hands up to stop from landing on his neck. Stunned, James tried to collect himself. In his peripheral, he saw the monster slowly coming at him. He sprung to his feet and launched a boot into its midsection, but...it was gone...
Behind him, James felt an explosion in his head, as Kaden rocked him with a vicious forearm to the back of his neck. James flew forward, as if shot from a cannon, grabbing the pane of the door to keep from falling through.
"You cost me everything!" It shrieked, its voice almost inhuman. James felt the rush failing him, and sheer panic starting to consume him.
"Kiss my ass, freakshow,"
James brought the shard of broken door from the ground in a mighty stroke, and his swing was true. The scrap wood connected with a sickening thunk under his chin, sending him reeling back across the room. James threw the board at his former friend, watching it bounce off his forehead before he could recover. Kaden flopped to his back, unable to keep balance as his eyes rolled in his head and his knees buckled.
James pounced, straddling it and throwing wild haymakers into the beast's disgusting face. Each blow landed with a wet sound, one that wouldn't leave James' dreams for years to come. The moment itself would not last long, as Kaden bucked him off so hard that James landed on his feet. Instinctively, James hoisted a boot and stomped the spot where Kaden's head used to be, but the monster was already gone. Up, bloody, and angry, the thing that used to be Kaden Keene stood across the room.
They faced off, wordless and bruised. This would be the last fight, if either of them had anything to say about it...there would never be a need for this to spill into a PCW ring if, if either could end this in the way they wanted.
"Get on the floor, now!"
******
James O'Neal had the thought that this was going to be another day in kookieville. He figured he'd go through the motions with this idiot, maybe even take him downtown for some questions. He would write the paper work, drive home, and stop for a glazed donut on the way home. It wasn't like Carol would have dinner waiting for him. She had stopped cooking a year ago, around the same time they stopped having sex. He thought she might have been having an affair...even asked her once, but she scoffed and huffed and left the room. That was six months ago, and he never mentioned it again.
Maybe tonight, he would.
When the chair came crashing down the narrow stairwell, knocking Pat halfway down the two flights they had already come up, James worried for the first time in his short career that he might not make it home at all.
Pat had landed badly; he couldn't see it, but he heard a few cracks when his partner stopped rolling, and Pat hadn't even groaned when he landed. A woman screamed and sobbed at the sight of the fallen cop when she came out of her apartment, and Johnny said a silent goodbye to his partner. He probably wouldn't need it, and he probably shouldn't, but he drew his gun. For the first time (a night of many firsts, this was) he released his guardian angel from its leather cradle and let it breathe some fine South Carolina air.
He was careful with the rest of stairs.
The scene was bad. The door to the apartment he had visited so many times in the past month was destroyed, wood splintered everywhere. The inside was a wreck, with the guy's refrigerator on its side, a table turned upside down...it was a mess.
Standing in the mess were two men; the big guy they had seen darting into the building. The other had his back to him, but he was pretty big, too. Better safe than sorry...
"Get on the floor, now!"
They both shot looks at him. The one he'd seen before looked nervous. The one turned slower, and James tightened his grip on his piece. He turned, and every nightmare James had ever had seemed to come to life. Sharp teeth, as long as knives. His lips--
"GO TO HELL, PIG."
******
The cop was shaking, and James was sure he saw his cheeks were flush with tears. To make matters worse, the cop had a gun. This was going to end badly.
Kaden turned to face the cop, and James considered taking the opportunity to pounce one more time, but then he heard something that sounded like pure Hell. Kaden spoke to the cop, gave an order, almost, and it sounded like a thousand voices screaming in his head. Young, old, in between, they all sounded like they were melting in acid. Like their voices had come up from Hell itself.
Before he could finish the thought, the cop fired two shots off into Kaden's chest. The beast dropped like a bag of bricks, leaving nothing between James and the rabid pig. James wanted to duck out of the way, but he had dropped Kaden so quickly...
Kaden's fingers clamped the refrigerator in an almost cartoonish way, and it tumbled over with ease. For a moment, in his red anger, he thought it would send the whole scene crashing through the floor.
Another opportunity, another failure. A step too late. He had seen the prize now for a fortnight and had yet to make good, collect his due reward. He was so close, he was so close, he was so close, hewassoclose, hewassoclose, hewassoclosehewassoclosehewassoclose....
With a display of power more vulgar than any yet, Kaden threw a kick into the side of the refrigerator that would have crippled a man, sending it skidding across the kitchen, and spilling into the living room. It slowly tipped, falling on its side. The door fell open, and the few items inside fell out. His blood...the bags...
No. The small IV bags would not do. His thirst was borne from anger, from hatred, and it would not be slaked by cold blood. He had spilled his own on the floor of his living room this time, broken teeth shattered and scattered across his apartment. His couch would forever bear the stains of his blood now, and he would not let it go to waste. Not this time.
Tonight, someone would die.
******
"You got jelly? Man, I hate jelly!"
James O'Neal held the powder donut in a pinch above the bag, as if even the sight of it disgusted him. Pat Jones shrugged as he stuffed the last of his bearclaw in his mouth.
"Fucking jelly? Fucking jelly. Great. Nevermind." James said, dropping the donut into the bad and tossing it in his partner's lap.
"More for me," Pat said, again with a shrug. "Whassamatter, Jimmy? Carol not cooking lately?"
James groaned. "Oh don't even get me started on that one. You'd think that after all this time she--"
"All cars, we've got a 415 at 315 Broad Street, Mauldin."
"Shit..." James said, taking the radio from its cradle. "Home, this is Echo Bravo 10, we're in vicinity."
"Copy, Echo Bravo."
"Third time this week! Jesus, this guy is a loon," Pat said, removing the powder donut from the bag. "Let's take him in this time?"
"Fuckin' right we are."
James hit the lights, and sped away from the Donut Hole. They had been called to this address three times this week, and about a dozen over the past month. Every time it was the same; they knock, this guy would answer. They'd ask to come in, he'd let them. They ask some questions, he'd act like everything was normal. No bruises, no wife, no girlfriend. The neighbors said they heard screaming coming from the place at all hours of the night, but nobody ever saw anyone coming or going from the place besides him. James just figured him as a nutjob. Gave him a ticket once or twice, but the guy always said he had no idea what the big deal was.
James had met some odd ducks in his time on the force, and this guy didn't seem half as strange as most of them. He never saw him as a threat.
That would all change tonight.
As the cruiser rolled to a stop at the sidewalk in front of the dilapidated building, another car rolled up behind them. A guy, a really big guy, jumped out, leaving his door open, and ran up the stairs like a bolt of lightning, disappearing into the place.
James and Pat shot each other a look.
"Let's go."
******
His head was hot, but he didn't feel it. He ran a fever, but he didn't feel sick. It was what soldiers called "battle fever," and James Keenan had felt it before. He called it "blacking out," or "going red," but no matter what he called it, when it happened, he couldn't be responsible for what happened next.
He made his way up the stairs faster than a man his size should be able to, churning his powerful legs like two errant trains on a collision course. He pumped his massive arms, and he nearly floated up the four narrow flights. His boots didn't even seem to touch the stairs, but in reality they pounded wood and rubber like an earthquake.
So close...he was so close...
And before he knew it, the door was before him. The apartment of the man he used to call a friend, a partner. The last time he was here, Kaden and James had gotten past the strange few weeks previous, and shared a laugh and some stories on the roof. Kaden had told his new agent to fuck off, and James had thought that maybe the old Kaden was coming back. James took that conversation as the two of them fixing cracks in the armor, and he thought every word to be true.
That was his mistake.
His friend, his partner, stabbed him in the back and left him for two men to beat and claim victory over. James fought valiantly, but ultimately, the two called Menace and Jackal were too strong for one man. He lost his gold (as if it wasn't gone when Kaden dropped him in the ring) and effectively lost his status; he was no longer sniffing the main event any longer, as he now opened the shows. Why? Because Kaden had taken the lead, proving that he was the Alpha, and had moved on, leaving James behind.
There was no room in wrestling for two former partners at the top. Never has been, never will be. Always, one will rise and one will fall. Kaden had a chance to win a shot at the PCW's most coveted prize, while James wrestled a woman to warm the crowd.
Even if James were to win the PCW Championship, he would forever hate the man who had lied to him, turned his back on him when he needed him the most. He would never forget. He would make hi--
The door exploded out, and James fell to the floor. A chair just missed taking his head off, clattering and snapping down the stairs behind him. When James stood up...
"What the fuck..."
Standing just inside the door was something that looked like Kaden, but wasn't, somehow...long, sharp daggers for teeth filled his mouth, his fingers were longer and curled and warped, his lips were...oh god...
"You son of a bitch!" It seethed, arching its back and somehow baring its teeth more. Its lips were spread in a way that nearly made James vomit; the top nearly touching between its eyes, and the bottom wrapped under its chin. It was like a living mask, this things face.
"K-Kaden...?"
"Fuck off, rock star! You fucked me, you son of a bitch!"
Then, it came back. The rush of adrenaline that had made so many heroes in wars throughout history was back, and James would not waste it.
He charged, not knowing or caring what had happened to his friend; that question was for another time. Right now was for vengeance, and James Keenan would have it. He hurdled the remaining chunk of door and snatched Kaden's blood-soaked shirt. He shoved, leaning in with all his momentum and weight into him, but...he didn't move...
They were inches apart, nearly nose to nose, and James' snarl fell from his face. Somehow, the beast managed a satisfied smile. Before he could even think, James was flying across the apartment, crashing upside down against the wall. He bounced, and just managed to get his hands up to stop from landing on his neck. Stunned, James tried to collect himself. In his peripheral, he saw the monster slowly coming at him. He sprung to his feet and launched a boot into its midsection, but...it was gone...
Behind him, James felt an explosion in his head, as Kaden rocked him with a vicious forearm to the back of his neck. James flew forward, as if shot from a cannon, grabbing the pane of the door to keep from falling through.
"You cost me everything!" It shrieked, its voice almost inhuman. James felt the rush failing him, and sheer panic starting to consume him.
"Kiss my ass, freakshow,"
James brought the shard of broken door from the ground in a mighty stroke, and his swing was true. The scrap wood connected with a sickening thunk under his chin, sending him reeling back across the room. James threw the board at his former friend, watching it bounce off his forehead before he could recover. Kaden flopped to his back, unable to keep balance as his eyes rolled in his head and his knees buckled.
James pounced, straddling it and throwing wild haymakers into the beast's disgusting face. Each blow landed with a wet sound, one that wouldn't leave James' dreams for years to come. The moment itself would not last long, as Kaden bucked him off so hard that James landed on his feet. Instinctively, James hoisted a boot and stomped the spot where Kaden's head used to be, but the monster was already gone. Up, bloody, and angry, the thing that used to be Kaden Keene stood across the room.
They faced off, wordless and bruised. This would be the last fight, if either of them had anything to say about it...there would never be a need for this to spill into a PCW ring if, if either could end this in the way they wanted.
"Get on the floor, now!"
******
James O'Neal had the thought that this was going to be another day in kookieville. He figured he'd go through the motions with this idiot, maybe even take him downtown for some questions. He would write the paper work, drive home, and stop for a glazed donut on the way home. It wasn't like Carol would have dinner waiting for him. She had stopped cooking a year ago, around the same time they stopped having sex. He thought she might have been having an affair...even asked her once, but she scoffed and huffed and left the room. That was six months ago, and he never mentioned it again.
Maybe tonight, he would.
When the chair came crashing down the narrow stairwell, knocking Pat halfway down the two flights they had already come up, James worried for the first time in his short career that he might not make it home at all.
Pat had landed badly; he couldn't see it, but he heard a few cracks when his partner stopped rolling, and Pat hadn't even groaned when he landed. A woman screamed and sobbed at the sight of the fallen cop when she came out of her apartment, and Johnny said a silent goodbye to his partner. He probably wouldn't need it, and he probably shouldn't, but he drew his gun. For the first time (a night of many firsts, this was) he released his guardian angel from its leather cradle and let it breathe some fine South Carolina air.
He was careful with the rest of stairs.
The scene was bad. The door to the apartment he had visited so many times in the past month was destroyed, wood splintered everywhere. The inside was a wreck, with the guy's refrigerator on its side, a table turned upside down...it was a mess.
Standing in the mess were two men; the big guy they had seen darting into the building. The other had his back to him, but he was pretty big, too. Better safe than sorry...
"Get on the floor, now!"
They both shot looks at him. The one he'd seen before looked nervous. The one turned slower, and James tightened his grip on his piece. He turned, and every nightmare James had ever had seemed to come to life. Sharp teeth, as long as knives. His lips--
"GO TO HELL, PIG."
******
The cop was shaking, and James was sure he saw his cheeks were flush with tears. To make matters worse, the cop had a gun. This was going to end badly.
Kaden turned to face the cop, and James considered taking the opportunity to pounce one more time, but then he heard something that sounded like pure Hell. Kaden spoke to the cop, gave an order, almost, and it sounded like a thousand voices screaming in his head. Young, old, in between, they all sounded like they were melting in acid. Like their voices had come up from Hell itself.
Before he could finish the thought, the cop fired two shots off into Kaden's chest. The beast dropped like a bag of bricks, leaving nothing between James and the rabid pig. James wanted to duck out of the way, but he had dropped Kaden so quickly...