Post by Mr. Showtime on Oct 2, 2015 21:34:10 GMT -5
The streets of Hangtown always seemed dark. Even more so on this particular night. The townsfolk were all up in arms about something. Probably a witch hunt or séance of sorts. “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght didn’t care. He knew that the Hangtonians didn’t like him. They didn’t fear him like they did the Dillingers, but who did? Though Wryght suspected that they respected him enough not to get in the way. The night they had come looking for Dillinger blood, after Kelli Starr burnt half the town down, he’d stood shoulder to shoulder with his fellow Black Hand members and quelled the insurgence.
Since that night Hangtown had been different. Showtime wanted to believe that they were more docile now that they’d been reminded who was really in charge, but he wasn’t naive. There was a storm brewing and Hangtown was the eye. He could smell it. Just as Showtime was destined for the presidency, Hangtown had its own destiny. Maybe it knew, or maybe it was just another puppet in the grand scheme, but there was more to this place then just being the hometown to evil. They all had their roles.
Per usual, Showtime shied away from the main streets of the Kentucky town. At first it was to avoid unwanted trouble, but now it seemed normal. Showtime had learned a good number of neighborhoods and back allies, enough that he could probably stay hidden for days. It was an appealing thought. After his dream he never wanted to crawl up into a hole and hide so badly. It wasn’t possible of course, but that didn’t stop his yearning. After all it didn’t matter since his fate was already sealed.
“Dead man walking,” squeaked a voice from one of the ally windows. Showtime tried to take no notice and push on. Stopping would only lead to trouble. “Pfft, you think that if you don’t look up I’ll vanish? Good luck. Mums been trying that for years.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I’m not looking for trouble, kid.”
“Like hell you don’t,” snarled the kid as he jumped down from a window.
The voice had a sense of familiarity, so Showtime responded with the only other name he knew in this town, “Walter?”
There was a playful giggle as Showtime spun around. He looked for the kid he once saved, but he was gone into the shadows.
“Dead man walking,” Walter repeated, this time in a high pitch tone. It was creepy, even for this town’s standards.
“Why do you keep saying that,” Wryght replied, though he knew the child was right.
“We all know that your days are numbered Mikey. Why play coy? Embrace your mortality, because a good number are going to as well. It’s your destiny.”
The destiny quip caught Showtime as he spun around. Walter wasn’t visible, but Wryght could hear the patter of his feet. The ground was unpaved dirt, but Walter still took Wryght by surprise as he raced past. Walter tried to give a little scratch to Showtime’s legs, but was deflected by grey suit pants.
“What is up with you Walter? I thought you might actually be one of the normal ones around here.”
“What’s normal?” he cackled. “Do you consider you normal? That’s boring. I’m Mr. Showtime and I’m always so serious. I like to wear suits and be on TV. I think I’m more important then I really am. Blah, blah, blah.”
“I know what you’re doing and it isn’t going to work,” Showtime replied, as calmly as he could.
“I know what you’re doing and it isn’t going to work,” Walter mocked back. The kid was just trying to get under Showtime’s skin, but why? Walter had always been one with the cause. He saw through the haze of Hangtown to befriend the ranks of the Hand. This was very strange indeed.
“Are you in trouble Walter?”
“Nope, but you are,” replied Walter. This time in the darkness Showtime could see Walter’s eyes glowing red. Something had got into the boy and it wasn’t natural, but what was in this God forsaken town? “It’s a shame too, because we’re all going to miss you.”
Walter’s statement was hissed at Showtime, then accompanied several other pairs of red eyes. At the shock, Showtime stumbled backwards right into a solid figure. It cause Showtime to get on guard and ball up his fists.
“So it’s come to this, huh?” It was a deep raspy voice that came from the darkness. As intimidating it might be to some, Showtime found it comforting.
“William, it’s you,” replied Showtime, relaxing his hands. Showtime looked back over his shoulder to where Walter was to find nothing. He wasn’t even sure there was anyone there in the first place. He’d much rather think he’d been hallucinating then someone else already knowing of his dream.
“Is that a good thing or are you still pissy with me?”
“Honestly, both. I’ve come here because I needed to talk.”
“Well Phin and Ruth aren’t here, so I can’t help you there.”
“Believe it or not I’m here for you. It’s time debts are paid and forgiveness is granted. Let’s call it my first presidential pardon,” Showtime said, as he slapped his friend on the shoulder with a smile. He hated how fake it was, but he needed to talk and Sadistic was the only one that would do.
“Alright then,” Sadistic replied, running his hand through his enormous beard. “The Dwarf is just around the corner, let’s get a pint.”
The two moved on and walked into Hangtown’s finest watering hole, The Angry Dwarf. As they stepped through, Sadistic noticed two men sitting in his normal seat. All he needed to do was put both hands on the table for the drunkards to vanish. Both men took seats across from the other as they put in their drink orders. Showtime had gone through a list of scotches, before just ordering a bourbon on the rocks.
“You should know better than to order fancy stuff around here. This is Kentucky. We drink Bourbon, not Blue Moon.”
“I wasn’t ordering Blue Moon…Forget it. I came here to ask you a question.”
“Shoot brother.”
“Would you ever try to kill me?”
“What?!?!”
“You heard me. I get that we’ve had some differences in the past, but I need you to answer.”
“Stop messing around,” answered Sadistic, absently looking for his beverage. When his gaze came back to Showtime, Showtime was baring holes through him. “Dammit Michael, of course not.”
Showtime took a quick look around and under his breath asked, “Even if the Black Hand demanded it?”
This comment again took Sadistic off his game a bit. His eyes drifted each way and with slightest head nod eased Showtime’s trepidation. He went on to William about the dream he had. He talked about inauguration day and seeing the flashes of his past. It was as if his life was flashing before his eyes. He went on to tell Sadistic about the shooter and the brilliant accuracy. The feeling of death that came next was the worst. In most cases this would jostle the dreamer awake, but not this time. Showtime got to feel what it was like to truly die.
“You know that this is ridiculous, right?” asked Sadistic as Wryght finished.
“It isn’t.”
“Michael, it was just a dream. I have dreams all the time. Doesn’t mean that zombies are going to attack or some murderous wretch is going to crawl into my bed and have her way with me,” at the second comment he just grinned and nodded at Showtime.
“It’s not the same. My dreams are different. They come true or have some deep seeded meaning.”
“Well aren’t you just a regular oracle,” mocked Sadistic, though once he saw the seriousness on Wryght’s face he put his hands up in an apology. “So what does it mean?”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m destined to die. I’m also convinced that someone at the inauguration is going to do it. I’m not convinced that the Hand isn’t behind it. I just need to know that I can trust my friends.”
“You can trust me.”
“What about the others?”
“Phin wouldn’t. He’d be torn to pieces at the thought of not being able to get his hands on you again.”
“Comforting.”
“Seriously, when he talks of your old days of hating each other a glint comes into his eye, and I think I actually saw him drool. I don’t know, but I think you’re safe there.
“Stormm?”
“I trust him, but I think if it were you or the twins he wouldn’t think twice. Though I think he’d try anything but that if he could.”
“It’s an issue with being friends with your enemies. You never know who has your back.”
“You haven’t been enemies in some time, minus Stormm. You’re in good hands. I promise.”
“Good,” Showtime replied, wanted to believe his friend. It wasn’t just that he didn’t have a choice, but he really wanted it to be true. Maybe he was going back on the naivety, but he would stick by his mates. “Then I have something else.”
“Shoot…oh, sorry.”
“I want us to be even.”
“Is this about the NA title?”
“It’s about everything,” said Showtime with a sly smile. “It’s time that the Black Hand wins the Deadly Rumble again. I’m fully planning on taking home either the North American or International titles, then I’m entering the Rumble.”
“Of course you are.”
“That means that it’s time you pay me back from last time. I sacrificed myself last year in order to make sure you won, so I guess you’ll have to do what it take to make sure that I win.”
Sadistic drains the remainder of his glass and wipes the foam out of his beard. He looks over to his long time best friend and extends a hand. Now all four members of the Black Hand will be involved in the Deadly Rumble, entered or not.
Nex Addo
Since that night Hangtown had been different. Showtime wanted to believe that they were more docile now that they’d been reminded who was really in charge, but he wasn’t naive. There was a storm brewing and Hangtown was the eye. He could smell it. Just as Showtime was destined for the presidency, Hangtown had its own destiny. Maybe it knew, or maybe it was just another puppet in the grand scheme, but there was more to this place then just being the hometown to evil. They all had their roles.
Per usual, Showtime shied away from the main streets of the Kentucky town. At first it was to avoid unwanted trouble, but now it seemed normal. Showtime had learned a good number of neighborhoods and back allies, enough that he could probably stay hidden for days. It was an appealing thought. After his dream he never wanted to crawl up into a hole and hide so badly. It wasn’t possible of course, but that didn’t stop his yearning. After all it didn’t matter since his fate was already sealed.
“Dead man walking,” squeaked a voice from one of the ally windows. Showtime tried to take no notice and push on. Stopping would only lead to trouble. “Pfft, you think that if you don’t look up I’ll vanish? Good luck. Mums been trying that for years.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I’m not looking for trouble, kid.”
“Like hell you don’t,” snarled the kid as he jumped down from a window.
The voice had a sense of familiarity, so Showtime responded with the only other name he knew in this town, “Walter?”
There was a playful giggle as Showtime spun around. He looked for the kid he once saved, but he was gone into the shadows.
“Dead man walking,” Walter repeated, this time in a high pitch tone. It was creepy, even for this town’s standards.
“Why do you keep saying that,” Wryght replied, though he knew the child was right.
“We all know that your days are numbered Mikey. Why play coy? Embrace your mortality, because a good number are going to as well. It’s your destiny.”
The destiny quip caught Showtime as he spun around. Walter wasn’t visible, but Wryght could hear the patter of his feet. The ground was unpaved dirt, but Walter still took Wryght by surprise as he raced past. Walter tried to give a little scratch to Showtime’s legs, but was deflected by grey suit pants.
“What is up with you Walter? I thought you might actually be one of the normal ones around here.”
“What’s normal?” he cackled. “Do you consider you normal? That’s boring. I’m Mr. Showtime and I’m always so serious. I like to wear suits and be on TV. I think I’m more important then I really am. Blah, blah, blah.”
“I know what you’re doing and it isn’t going to work,” Showtime replied, as calmly as he could.
“I know what you’re doing and it isn’t going to work,” Walter mocked back. The kid was just trying to get under Showtime’s skin, but why? Walter had always been one with the cause. He saw through the haze of Hangtown to befriend the ranks of the Hand. This was very strange indeed.
“Are you in trouble Walter?”
“Nope, but you are,” replied Walter. This time in the darkness Showtime could see Walter’s eyes glowing red. Something had got into the boy and it wasn’t natural, but what was in this God forsaken town? “It’s a shame too, because we’re all going to miss you.”
Walter’s statement was hissed at Showtime, then accompanied several other pairs of red eyes. At the shock, Showtime stumbled backwards right into a solid figure. It cause Showtime to get on guard and ball up his fists.
“So it’s come to this, huh?” It was a deep raspy voice that came from the darkness. As intimidating it might be to some, Showtime found it comforting.
“William, it’s you,” replied Showtime, relaxing his hands. Showtime looked back over his shoulder to where Walter was to find nothing. He wasn’t even sure there was anyone there in the first place. He’d much rather think he’d been hallucinating then someone else already knowing of his dream.
“Is that a good thing or are you still pissy with me?”
“Honestly, both. I’ve come here because I needed to talk.”
“Well Phin and Ruth aren’t here, so I can’t help you there.”
“Believe it or not I’m here for you. It’s time debts are paid and forgiveness is granted. Let’s call it my first presidential pardon,” Showtime said, as he slapped his friend on the shoulder with a smile. He hated how fake it was, but he needed to talk and Sadistic was the only one that would do.
“Alright then,” Sadistic replied, running his hand through his enormous beard. “The Dwarf is just around the corner, let’s get a pint.”
The two moved on and walked into Hangtown’s finest watering hole, The Angry Dwarf. As they stepped through, Sadistic noticed two men sitting in his normal seat. All he needed to do was put both hands on the table for the drunkards to vanish. Both men took seats across from the other as they put in their drink orders. Showtime had gone through a list of scotches, before just ordering a bourbon on the rocks.
“You should know better than to order fancy stuff around here. This is Kentucky. We drink Bourbon, not Blue Moon.”
“I wasn’t ordering Blue Moon…Forget it. I came here to ask you a question.”
“Shoot brother.”
“Would you ever try to kill me?”
“What?!?!”
“You heard me. I get that we’ve had some differences in the past, but I need you to answer.”
“Stop messing around,” answered Sadistic, absently looking for his beverage. When his gaze came back to Showtime, Showtime was baring holes through him. “Dammit Michael, of course not.”
Showtime took a quick look around and under his breath asked, “Even if the Black Hand demanded it?”
This comment again took Sadistic off his game a bit. His eyes drifted each way and with slightest head nod eased Showtime’s trepidation. He went on to William about the dream he had. He talked about inauguration day and seeing the flashes of his past. It was as if his life was flashing before his eyes. He went on to tell Sadistic about the shooter and the brilliant accuracy. The feeling of death that came next was the worst. In most cases this would jostle the dreamer awake, but not this time. Showtime got to feel what it was like to truly die.
“You know that this is ridiculous, right?” asked Sadistic as Wryght finished.
“It isn’t.”
“Michael, it was just a dream. I have dreams all the time. Doesn’t mean that zombies are going to attack or some murderous wretch is going to crawl into my bed and have her way with me,” at the second comment he just grinned and nodded at Showtime.
“It’s not the same. My dreams are different. They come true or have some deep seeded meaning.”
“Well aren’t you just a regular oracle,” mocked Sadistic, though once he saw the seriousness on Wryght’s face he put his hands up in an apology. “So what does it mean?”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m destined to die. I’m also convinced that someone at the inauguration is going to do it. I’m not convinced that the Hand isn’t behind it. I just need to know that I can trust my friends.”
“You can trust me.”
“What about the others?”
“Phin wouldn’t. He’d be torn to pieces at the thought of not being able to get his hands on you again.”
“Comforting.”
“Seriously, when he talks of your old days of hating each other a glint comes into his eye, and I think I actually saw him drool. I don’t know, but I think you’re safe there.
“Stormm?”
“I trust him, but I think if it were you or the twins he wouldn’t think twice. Though I think he’d try anything but that if he could.”
“It’s an issue with being friends with your enemies. You never know who has your back.”
“You haven’t been enemies in some time, minus Stormm. You’re in good hands. I promise.”
“Good,” Showtime replied, wanted to believe his friend. It wasn’t just that he didn’t have a choice, but he really wanted it to be true. Maybe he was going back on the naivety, but he would stick by his mates. “Then I have something else.”
“Shoot…oh, sorry.”
“I want us to be even.”
“Is this about the NA title?”
“It’s about everything,” said Showtime with a sly smile. “It’s time that the Black Hand wins the Deadly Rumble again. I’m fully planning on taking home either the North American or International titles, then I’m entering the Rumble.”
“Of course you are.”
“That means that it’s time you pay me back from last time. I sacrificed myself last year in order to make sure you won, so I guess you’ll have to do what it take to make sure that I win.”
Sadistic drains the remainder of his glass and wipes the foam out of his beard. He looks over to his long time best friend and extends a hand. Now all four members of the Black Hand will be involved in the Deadly Rumble, entered or not.
Nex Addo
