Post by Eden Morgan on Oct 31, 2015 19:16:26 GMT -5
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
October 29, 2015: New Orleans
Jason Ingalls sits bolt upright, the echoes of his screams all around him. Sweat pours from his skin, his eyes wide and wild.
“Shut the fuck up!” someone yells at him, several grumbles joining in assent. He frowns, brow drawn down in confusion as he peers through the dark around him.
Generic metal bunks stretched throughout the large room. Jase's overly sensitive fingers gently rub at the olive green blanket covering his legs as he filters through the information.
He was away; Chaos had set him free; and then just as he was allowing himself to believe it was over, Jet had issued a final ultimatum. He had been confused to see Jet on a bike and when he had spun the bike around and slung gravel on him, he had been even more confused to see a DMW cut across his back.
It was then that he truly broke down, unleashing a torrent of tears as understanding dawned on him that he was broken, his mind flayed from the months spent in the shed.
He continued to walk, he didn't know where, simply following the gravel road, his legs barely holding him upright. Lights had appeared ahead and Jase had thrown an arm up to shield his eyes, fear flooding his body as he considered it was likely either Chaos or Jet returning, having changed their minds. With a cracked sob, he dove into bushes surrounding the path, his continual tremors giving way his supposed shelter. He peered through the leaves, watching as a black Rolls Royce limousine came to a crawl and then stopped, his shattered mind racing for a logical explanation. Jase felt something crawling along his neck, biting him as it went, but refused to slap at the offender. It was only a discomfort, and he knew discomfort well; it was the pain that followed that he never wanted to revisit. The car continued to sit in the gravel pathway, Jase holding his breath until a door opened, the air rushing from his lungs in a whoosh. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists tight, trying to fight off the wave of panic that threatened to wash over him.
“The fuck did you get to, then?” an irritated, thick British accent drifted over to him. He opened his eyes and peered through the leaves, watching as a swarthy older gentleman in a suit perused his surroundings and muttered things like “cocksucker” under his breath. “ 'ey!” he suddenly yelled, causing Jase to jump and the leaves to rustle. The man's dark gaze swung in his direction and he rolled his eyes.
“A fucking bush, mate? Where's your cunting pride, get the fuck out and get in the car. Come on,” he made an impatient gesture toward the idling car. When Jase didn't move from his hiding spot, the man clenched his jaw in annoyance. “If I have to come in there and get your ass you're going to bloody well regret it now fucking get in the goddamned car!”
He made a split second decision and stood, dragging himself from the foliage. The man's dark eyebrow shot up.
“Fuck but you're a mess, aren't you? And you smell right like the piss,” he made a face but continued to usher Jase toward the car. “Get in, get in, sooner I get your arse going the sooner I can be rid of you.”
Jase had slid onto a leather seat, the man closing the door behind him and moving around the car to the driver's seat. Jase sat in the back, fear and gratefulness taking hold.
“Th—thank you,” he calls to the driver, the man muttering again under his breath in response.
“You're quite welcome, Mr. Ingalls,” came a voice on the complete other side of him, deep and strong, the owner of the voice hidden by shadow. The panic immediately took hold again and he clutched at the door handle, finding the door locked. The panic bubbled out in a quasi scream from his throat, eliciting a chuckle from the unknown man in the back with him.
“Aren't you a jumpy one? Relax, Mr. Ingalls, if I wanted to harm you I already would have. In fact, I'm probably the only friend you have left in this world, mate. Why do you think you were released from the Devil's Most Wanted torture chamber?” a match flared to life and smoke filled the back of the car as the cherry glow of a cigar ignited. He shook his hand to extinguish the fire, Jase focused intently on the immense man in the back revealed briefly by the flame's glow. He seemed familiar...
“I know you--” he started, only to be interrupted.
“You knew me, yes. But tell me, Jase, would you rather sit here and talk about things you once knew... or would you rather talk about payback?”
Jase had drawn back in his chair at the word. Payback. For one who had been hopeless for so long, such a word didn't exist. It was poison. But now, here it was offered and--
“Tell me more,” he had answered with more determination in his voice than he had felt in months.
And now, here he was, the New Orleans Mission shelter. Here he had been able to bathe, groom, and clothe himself in clothing that fit. When the volunteers had asked what size he wore, he had looked down at his ragged and ill-fitting clothing, realizing that he no longer knew. He had been athletic but slim before being taken into Chaos' tender mercies, but now--- he couldn't bear to look at his almost emaciated frame in the broken mirrors of the shelter. His cheeks were hollow, cheekbones jutting, dark shadows cast beneath his eyes.
But he was safe. He'd had hot meals, and for the first time in months, didn't feel dehydrated. He had followed the advice he was given and not provided his real name; he had taken on faith that the man meant what he said, that he had set up an account for him at a bank that he would be able to access at any time he wanted.
But first, business. There were things he had to do, pressing things. Jase considers those things as he lies back down onto the pillow on his bunk, drawing the blanket up to his neck. The pillow was flat, the blanket itchy, the mattress thin and did little to conceal the metal bars beneath him; but he couldn't remember a time when he felt more like a king.
He slept.
October 30, 2015: Chicago
“Again.” Hugh's terse, sharp statement echoes throughout the abandoned gym, Eden shooting a glare at him through sweat-soaked locks.
“Don't you think you're taking this manager thing a little too seriously now, especially since you don't know the first fucking thing about it?” she questions harshly, Hugh's gaze turning steely.
“You want results you ungrateful bitch, fucking act like it. You've done nothing, Eden! Nothing but sit on your arse in that bloody apartment or be on your phone. You come here and you do fuck all! You can be Ms. High and Mighty Eden Morgan, watch me prance about, all you like but when we get to Africa--”
Eden raises an eyebrow.
“We? Who said you're coming with me?”
Hugh continues on as if she's said nothing.
“-- all the cards are going to be laid on the table, love. And if you think the others aren't coming for you for whatever reasons they may have individually, you're a fucking loss. In fact, I'd be surprised if they don't agree to work together just until you're eliminated. You fucked yourself royally with that match choice. Any bloody match choice in the world and you fucking choose that one. Right smart one, you are--”
“Are you done yet?” she asks from the middle of the ring, lying flat on her back. Silence greets her question and she looks over to find Hugh leaned against the bottom rope, staring at her.
“The fuck is this place anyway? It looks like it needs to be updated or something--”
“It's actually in the middle of renovations,” Eden responds in a bored tone. “Colin and Spyder's old gym, I just know a way to get in and unlock--”
“You mean you've got me breaking and entering, woman? Are you mad? And in their place?” Hugh asks incredulously. Eden rolls her eyes.
“Relax. They know I'm here,” she mutters, rolling over and pushing up.
“Do they, now?” Hugh's question is skeptical, Eden giving him a faux smile.
“Of course. They've been watching me. I assume since neither of them have made any attempt to stop me, they don't mind.”
“What the--- how do you know they've been watching you?!” Hugh appears flabbergasted, Eden unaffected. She shrugs.
“Because I know them,” she replies simply. Hugh shakes his head and then climbs up on the ring apron before slipping between the ropes. He moves over to her, grabbing her bottom jaw in his hand and squeezing until her mouth opens.
“Sometimes, love, you're almost too fucked up even for me,” the scorn and disgust obvious in his voice before he moves in a gives her a quick kiss and then shoves her away, Eden catching herself easily. “Again,” he barks at her again, stepping out of the ring once more. Eden flashes a mischevious smile his way.
“You know, practicing a new move is all well and good, but it doesn't really do anything if I don't have someone to do it to,” she hints at him, Hugh shaking his head.
“No fucking way am I letting you tie that in to me, love. Do I look stupid?”
“I wouldn't cinch it in all the way and it would only be for a second--”
“Fuck off, Eden. Now, again!”
Eden's stance changes and she starts to move around an imaginary opponent when her phone goes off in the corner of the ring. She huffs and moves off to it, Hugh clenching his fists as she abandons her movements.
“Let it go, Eden, it can fucking wait--”
Ignoring him, she answers the phone.
“Eden Morgan speaking.”
She listens for several moments, her face draining of color. Seeing her pallor, Hugh climbs back into the ring, approaching her swiftly, his hands clutching at her shoulders.
“What's wrong, love?”
Eden holds up a hand silencing him, a distant look in her eyes as she continues to listen.
“Yeah. I'm still here. Thank you for the heads up,” she says by way of ending the call. She turns away from Hugh and slides out of the ring, grabbing up her bag.
“Hey! Where the hell are you going?” he calls, following behind her.
“New Orleans,” she responds grimly, Hugh drawing up in confusion.
“New Orleans? What the fuck, Eden, we can't go to New Orleans right now, you fly out tomorrow!”
Eden continues walking.
“Then I guess Travis is going to have to reroute my flight or I won't be in Johannesburg.”
October 30, 2015: New Orleans
Jason Ingalls was a man addicted. He helped around the shelter, he spoke with various counselors, he ate, he showered, he pondered the options for his future, and he considered the words the man had spoken that night... so familiar...
But after it all, he continually found himself sitting on the couch in front of the television, avidly and hungrily devouring the news it relayed. Current events, national level, presidential debates, local news, entertainment... it didn't matter. He had been starved for everything.
And so, having finished his dishwashing duties, Jase took a seat on the couch preparing his mental meal of information.
“--- Matthew Zale spoke with UGWC reporter Victoria Jensen regarding the heinous accusations leveled against him by Ms. Morgan, and he had this to say...”
The camera pans over to a tall man, Jase sitting back and listening.
“I don't know what her plan was, honestly, but I know she laid a trap for me and I walked right into it. She knew me and she knew my faults, she played them; but I can tell you that the bruises left of her throat were not from me; yes, I lost my temper, but not enough to do that to her, I've grown and I've changed and I think the surveillance tape will show that what I say is the truth, along with the statements from Brandon Simon,” Matthew finishes, the camera panning to the side to show his brother Colin Zale standing with him.
Jase freezes on the couch as he stares at the visage of Colin Zale, the name Brandon Simon firing in his brain. He considers everything he had just heard, putting the pieces together as he sits forward, intently listening to everything the reporter said.
“Ms. Morgan has declined to comment about these allegations made against her by her former personal assistant, the aforementioned Mr. Simon, who remains in the employ of Bryson Enterprises.”
Bryson Enterprises. The Syndicate. Jase blinks as it all crashes into place, including the identity of his 'savior.'
“In other news, scandalous reports of a necrophilia-related photoshoot in South Africa and what it has to do with the notorious New Orleans motorcycle club the Devil's Most Wanted. Stay tuned.”
Jase didn't move a muscle.
October 31, 2015: New Orleans
Eden stares at her phone once the call between herself and Quentin Barnes ends, considering it for a moment before pressing a button and rolling down the driver's side window and tossing her phone out onto the pavement racing beneath the vehicle. Hugh gives her a disbelieving look.
“Now why the hell did you do that?”
“I'm tired of being bothered,” Eden answers in a flat, cold tone.
“Yeah, what happens when one of your UGWC higher ups tries to get in touch with you about that plane they're not going to reroute?” he retorts. Arriving at her destination, Eden throws the car into park and glares at him.
“They'll do it if they want me there,” she climbs out of the car and slams the door, looking out across the green grass, broken by lines of tombstones. In the distance, several people with the appearance of police move about, roping off an area with yellow tape. Hugh climbs out of his side and moves over beside her, putting a restraining hand on her arm.
From here on out, I want your permission.
“If they're in the middle of an investigation, maybe we should come ba--”
Eden jerks her arm away and moves through the grass, dread building within her.
The gloves come off, but only if you say they do.
“Eden, we can't be here,” Hugh bites out, glancing around them, but Eden continues on without even giving him a look back.
I want the full satisfaction of your knowing that everything that happens is done with your consent, so you'll know for certain that you were the reason for your own downfall.
As they approach, Hugh moves behind a large, old oak tree, getting a firm hold on Eden's arm and yanking her in beside him. She fixes him with a cold stare that gives him momentary pause, but he doesn't relinquish his grasp.
“You can see from here if you have to but don't get closer. The last thing you need is to be dragged into another investigation.”
Eden looks around the tree, noting the area that seems to be under investigation: Ryan Hanneman's grave. She clearly makes out the engraving, every detail tucked away in her mind.
However it hurts, however it eats you up inside, you'll have to live with the fact that you asked for it.
“Was the reporter who called you right? Is it him?” Hugh asks in a hushed whisper. Eden stares at the empty grave site several moments more before turning back to the car.
So I'm asking you right now, Eden, will you continue down this path with me?
Hugh moves quickly up beside her and she answers him without flinching.
“Yes.”
In the distance, a figure watches her, only stepping out once she and Hugh have gotten in their car and driven away.
Jason Ingalls.
October 31, 2015: New Orleans
“We don't have time to stay the night, we need to get to a phone and give Pierce a call--”
“Do you ever get tired of bitching?” Eden asks wearily, Hugh's expression heating.
“Seems like I'm the only one who gives a fuck about your career anymore--”
“Of course you are, because you enjoy the money and status it brings in, don't you, Hugh?” Eden's glares back at him, daring to deny it or say more. When he doesn't Eden picks up the empty ice bucket and throws it at him. “Here. Fill it up. I'm tired and I want to get some sleep; we'll head to the airport in the morning and I'll call Pierce from there.”
Hugh catches it, his fingers gripping it tightly in anger before he slams out of the hotel room, the door crashing against the wall behind it. Eden sits numbly for a moment, fidgeting before getting to her feet and crossing over to the bed to unpack the duffel bag she'd thrown together for the hasty trip to New Orleans. She catches movement from the corner of her eye, turning to see a tall, gaunt man standing in the doorway. She cuts her eyes at him. “Fuck off, this isn't your room.”
He doesn't move, Eden turning in annoyance to face him fully.
“I said fuck off--”
She stops suddenly, blinking slowly as she takes him in. Jase steps into the room and slams the door shut behind him.
“Not gonna run or scream, Edie?” he asks as he approaches closer, stopping abruptly as Eden bursts into peals of laughter. He frowns.
“Jason Ingalls. I must say you've looked better,” she begins, moving closer to him. “I almost didn't recognize you, but do you know how I did? You have that same pathetic gleam in your eye that you always had--”
She cuts off as Jase wraps his hands around her neck and shoves her into the wall behind her, her head snapping back to slam against it. She laughs again, louder this time, Jase's face almost purple with rage.
“Is that all you've got, Jase? Come on, you know you want to do more. How long did my brother and Chaos have you locked up for? What all did they do to you? Did you know when it happened that I had set you up or did it take you some time to figure it out? Did they have to tell you? Do you know that the entire time you were there, it never ceased to be a source of amusement for me to consider exactly what they were doing to you? Or when you called, it didn't even stop a minute of my day, in fact, I'm fairly certain I went right out and bought one of those frivolous little coffee drinks that I'm sure you would have killed to have. So go ahead, Jase. Squeeze. Do it hard enough and you'll even get to feel the bones popping--”
“What the bloody hell is going on? Who the fuck is this?” Hugh yells from the doorway, throwing the ice bucket down on the table. Eden raises a hand to hold him off, keeping her eyes on Jase, a smile twisting her lips.
“Nothing to worry over, dear, it's just an old friend paying a visit. Jase, this is my boyfriend, Hugh. Hugh, my ex-boyfriend Jase; you know, the one I sold out to my brother and his biker buddies, they've spent the last several months cooking up all sorts of imaginative ways to torture him, or so I'm assuming. Oh dear, I've just realized this may become quite awkward,” she makes a face, her laughter cutting off as Jase's grip tightens just a bit. Eden's grin turns icy, her voice strained and low. “Besides, he doesn't have the balls to do what he really wants to do, he's too much of a bitch, always has been, has to get others to do his dirty work for him. You're just as pathetic now as you always have been. It's a shame they didn't just fucking kill you and end your miserable, sorry life. Do it, Jase. Prove me wrong. Show me you're not a fucking pathetic cunt of a man--”
“Shut up! Shut up, you bitch, shut the fuck up!” he screams, both hands around her neck squeezing as he brings his face close to hers, his eyes wild. He lifts her head away from the wall and slams it back again, Hugh leaping in and yanking him away from Eden. Jason Ingalls drops to the floor in a heap, curling into the fetal position as he sobs loudly, almost rocking and holding his knees to his chest. Hugh attempts to check Eden over, Eden slapping his hands away in irritation and giving him a warning glare as she approaches the ball of human misery. She nudges Jase with her toe, causing him to draw in tighter on himself. Narrowing her eyes, she levels a hard kick right to his ribs, Jase crying out as he unfolds, guarding that side. She squats down beside him, placing a hand under his chin and staring him straight in the eyes.
“Get the fuck... out of my room... and don't ever come near me again unless you can actually finish what you start. Do you understand me?”
Jase continues to sob uncontrollably, Eden removing her hand from his chin and slapping him hard across the face. She grips his chin again and brings her face closer to his.
“Do you understand me?” she asks again, her voice even. Jase nods his head, whispering 'yes' over and over, Eden giving him a small smile. “Good. I look forward to the day when you aren't a sorry piece of shit, Jase, I really do,” she places a kiss on the cheek she had slapped and then gets to her feet. She walks to the door and opens it, holding a hand out.
“Now get the fuck out,” she commands, Jase stumbling to his feet and limps out, holding his ribs. He pauses in the doorway, giving her one last murderous glare. Eden grins. “If you think you can do it now, be my guest.” Jase stares at her a few moments more and then hobbles out into the hall, Eden closing the door behind him.
“What... the fuck was that?” Hugh asks incredulously, Eden turning to face him.
“That... is what the future looks like for Killian, Alan, and Zane. That's all,” Eden replies in a deceptively sweet voice, her eyes distant. She walks over to him and places a kiss on his cheek, Hugh flinching, the deja vu all too real.