Post by Eden Morgan on Dec 13, 2015 15:51:14 GMT -5
Welcome to your life
Eden Morgan was behaving erratically, so much so that even she recognized it; it was no surprise to her that Hugh didn't show up at the predetermined time. It was no surprise, but it was a bitter annoyance. She had misjudged him, thought she had found someone with little to no conscience, someone willing to do what needed to be done. For the most part, he was, but he was starting to balk...
“Sorry, got caught up,” Hugh's deep, smooth voice breaks through her thoughts as he walks into the room. Eden raises her head, piercing him with her gaze.
“With what?” she asks evenly, Hugh drawing back at her question.
“What?” he asks, feigning not understanding her. He turns away, removing the light jacket he wore, tugging the sleeves down his tanned and sculpted arms. She knew he expected her to drop it then, but she wanted a fight, wanted him to put everything into what came next.
“What did you get caught up with?” she asks, watching his shoulders tighten. He remains quiet, involved in the pretense of placing his jacket just so on the back of a chair.
“Just some odds and ends I needed to get to before the holidays,” he finally replies nonchalantly, turning around and flashing her the kind of smile most women would feel from the ends of their hair down to their toes, a smile that passed a caressing hand over the most intimate areas of the body. Eden felt the tug, but ignored it.
“I told you I would marry you after Horizons, after the new year, yet you're still running around trying to get things in order as if it's happening today. It's not, Hugh. Let it go,” she says coldly, the smile fading from his handsome face. “And don't try to feed me some line that you're that eager for me to be yours. We both know that isn't true.”
“Would it kill you to even pretend, just for a minute? Do you have a single romantic bone in your fucking body?” he asks, his eyes narrowed. Eden smirks at him.
“Depends, does yours count?”
There's no turning back
“Crude bitch,” he mutters under his breath, his expression darkened. “What are you waiting for, Eden? We could do this now, get it done with, it means so little to both of us,” he adds cruelly. Eden shrugs.
“Because it's what you want. You want to get this done and over with as quickly as possible, and I enjoy denying you... because I can,” she grins at him and then looks over at the table between them. He follows her gaze to the cane lying on the table.
“If it was a beating you were wanting, love, all you had to do was say so,” he gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he lifts the cane. Eden shakes her head, all mockery gone, her eyes fixed on the weapon in his hand.
“This has to be different. I need to be ready for him, I need to be able to take whatever he gives. No surprises,” she looks up at Hugh, her fiance' unable to hide his near hatred of her. “You can't hold back.”
Hugh looks down at the cane in his hand, his fingers opening and closing over it before gripping it tightly. He closes the distance to her quickly, shoving his free hand into her hair and yanking her head back harshly, forcing her to look up at him.
“My pleasure,” he utters coldly, stepping to the side as he hurls her to the floor.
Even while we sleep
We will find you
Jason Ingalls was in a hurry, but he wasn't stupid; he'd waited until after the weekly Church was over and the clubhouse was mostly empty. The last thing he wanted to do was walk into a building full of his former brothers, any of them more than willing to put their fist through his face. He was persona non grata in the city of New Orleans, but especially in this place. Jase closes his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath, exhaling forcefully. He didn't like being here any more than they wanted him here, but sometimes, just sometimes...
He sets his jaw and steps away from the cab, tossing the fare to the driver. The gravel crunching behind him as the cab pulls away echoes absently in his mind as he approaches the porch of the Devil's Most Wanted's clubhouse in New Orleans, Louisiana. Under normal circumstances, he would never be able to approach this easily without challenge; there was always at least one pair of eyes watching. But after the meeting, the clubhouse was mostly deserted save for the officers and their closest few. Jase pauses before the door praying fervently that the Vice President is not the first he meets. With determination, he enters the clubhouse.
On high alert, his eyes dart all around the large common area, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds it empty. Laughter sounds from the kitchen feminine and masculine mixed. He jumps and stiffens, looking toward the noise, pupils dilated, pulse thundering in his ears. When no one appears, he wipes a hand across his upper lip, coming away with a thin sheen of sweat. He shakes his head.
Get it together, man.
Acting on your best behavior
Jase takes a few calming breaths and it's then that he hears the voices filtering out from the closed off room known to those in the club as Church. His heart speeds up as he approaches, trying not to consider the consequences of his actions. For a moment, he places his forehead against the broad, heavy double doors before pulling one open and slipping into the room. The conversation continues for a few seconds before three sets of eyes swing over to him. Cypress Morgan remains in his President's seat at the head of a long, wooden table, Bloodhound seated to his left. Jet's seat appeared to have been recently vacated, Somers moving about the room as he spoke. He no longer moved. Jase speaks hurriedly.
“I-- I tried to call-- I called Cyp and he wouldn't talk to me and I called Jet and he wouldn't--”
“That was probably a hint you should've taken,” Bloodhound speaks up from the table, Jet taking a menacing step forward. Jase holds up a hand.
“Wait! I mean it, I need to talk to you guys, do you really think I'd fucking come back here if I didn't? You think I'd show up just to do it?!”
Cypress picks up a cigar that had been smoking in the ashtray beside him. “Speak. Hold back, Jet.”
Jet takes a final step, placing him just barely a foot away from Jase. He stares coldly at the man before him, Jase paling a bit.
“Can I get-- uh-- get your word that I'll leave here? Unharmed?” he licks his lips, clenching his hands to hide the shaking in them. Cypress chuckles.
“Well now, that depends on what you have to say,” he jokes, then narrows his eyes when Jase remains close lipped. “You'll leave here, Ingalls, but I won't say you'll be unharmed. Satisfactory?”
“Guess it'll have to do,” Jase concedes, and then in a rush, “it's about Eden.”
A look passes between Bloodhound and Cypress, giving Jase the feeling that she had been the topic of discussion before he had interrupted. Jet continues to stare a hole through him.
“What about her?”
Jase's mind races as he attempts to put to words what he wanted to say. It had seemed so simple over the phone. Why couldn't they have just given him a few minutes?
“She-- ah-- she's not doing too well, after that match with Dirge. And I guess after those other matches-- anyway, she's ah-- she's in the hospital--”
“That's common knowledge, Ingalls. If that's all you've got, Jet can show you out,” Cypress interrupts him, the disgust clear in his voice. Jet starts to grin, Jase backing away, raising his hands.
“Wait! Just--- you don't know everything, I mean you think you do, but you don't. I went to see her in the hospital--”
The grin instantly fades from Jet's face.
“Why?” he growls the question, Jase glancing up from him briefly to find Cypress and Bloodhound's full attention on him. He licks his lips, knowing what came next would be difficult, but had to be done.
The words refuse to come. Jet takes another step closer, Jase not moving away this time.
“I asked you a question, Ingalls. Why?”
Turn your back on mother nature
A calm suffuses Jase as he stares into the suspicious, knowing eyes before him and the two sets at the table. He looks beyond Jet, trying to ignore his malevolent presence in front of him, focusing instead on Cypress when he finally speaks again.
“Because I was going to kill her.”
It happened fast. One second he was standing there looking in the eyes of the President of the DMW while he told him he had planned to kill his sister, the next he was on the ground, his jaw throbbing painfully, Jet atop him, driving his fists into his face and ribcage. He'd known this was coming, expected it, and in some ways, looked forward to the penance.
“Stop! Jet, stop!” hands pull Jet back, Bloodhound having to physically step in between Opie and his quarry. He holds a hand up, trying to calm Jet down.
“Hold on, brother, I want to break his fucking face as bad as you, but we need to know why he's here first. The bastard ain't suicidal. There's more to it than that,” he stops and turns halfway to look down at the floor where Jase lies. “There better be fuckin' more to it than that.”
Jase nods shakily, Jet gnashing his teeth. “Fine,” he bites out. Bloodhound watches him a moment longer before turning around and pulling Jase back to his feet. Jase rubs at his already swelling jaw, blood seeping from a cut to the cheekbone on that side. He stands in silence, searching for what to say.
"I went to her room, she was asleep. I think she was, anyway, I'm not really sure. And she-- I watched her for a few minutes, you know? Because I remember how she used to be and it's hard for me to--- to place that with what she's become. Everything she's done, not just to me but to everyone around her," he looks away for a moment, taking a couple deep breaths before speaking again. "I'm not trying to excuse what I did--"
"What did you do, exactly?" Cypress' voice gruff, a cloud of cigar smoke hanging in the air around him. Jase clears his throat.
"I almost just left. Just walked out, she was already in a bad way, but---" he takes another deep breath, quietly deciding to leave some out. When he starts speaking again, he does so in a rush. "I climbed on top of her and I picked up a pillow--"
Jet starts forward again, Bloodhound intercepting him. “Let him finish!"
Jet stops his struggling to get to Jase, his glare boring through the man as he silently fumes. Jase continues on.
"But before I got it over her face I-- I saw her watching me, and she could have stopped me, she could have screamed, she could have said something or hit the call light and people would have come, but she didn't. She just laid there and let me cover her face with the pillow," Jase's voice takes on a faraway quality as if seeing it all happen again. Cypress' chair scrapes the floor as he pushes back from the table, getting to his feet. The sound doesn't draw him away from the memory.
"I made sure I could still see her eyes, I was angry, I wanted her to see me angry, I wanted it to be the last thing she saw so she would understand the consequences of her actions. She never fought me, never made a sound, even had the chance to call for help but-- she didn't do it," his voice breaks. "I-- she let me do it. She wanted me to do it," he says emphatically, looking from one to the other. Cypress moves easily around Jet and Bloodhound, coming to stand before Jase.
"So you came here to say that you were going to kill my sister, started to, and then didn't finish because it's what she wanted? Is that about right?"
Jase shakes his head.
"You don't understand; she's not right, there's something wrong with her, if you'd seen it, you'd understand--"
"Oh I understand more than you think. And I thank you for that information. Wasn't what I wanted to fucking hear, but it's what I needed to hear. See Jet and I have a decision to make regarding Eden and while Jet has already made that decision, I was holding off, but now?" Cypress takes a drag from his cigar and then blows the smoke in Jase's face. "Now I know what decision has to be made," he considers the man standing before him for a moment. "And now I have a job for you, Ingalls."
Jase's eyes widen. "And that is--?" he asks carefully. Cypress grins and jabs a finger stiffly into his chest.
"You're going back to Chicago as fast as you can get there, and when you do, you're going to do the job you were supposed to do in the beginning."
Jet makes a sound of disbelief behind him, Bloodhound speaking up. "You sure that's a good move, Cyp, after what he just said?"
Cypress continues to stare Jase down, the threatening grin in place.
"Fuck yes I'm sure. He's going to make sure he does his job well this time, because if he doesn't I'll personally see to it that what Chaos started is finished. You understand what I'm telling you, Ingalls?"
Jase pales, nodding sharply.
Cypress claps him hard on the shoulder.
"Good. That's real good," he smiles in an unfriendly way. "And if you ever touch my sister in a way that I might consider anything but helpful--" he leaves it unfinished, gripping Jase's shoulder tight and then releasing. He turns around, walking back to his seat.
"Jet can show you out."
Jet focuses on Jase, Jase's eyes darting between Cypress and his Sgt.
"That's-- that's okay, I know the way--"
"But I insist. Hospitality and all that," Cypress replies as he takes his seat once more, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile. Jase casts a beseeching look at Bloodhound, a look ignored as Jet moves forward, gripping Jase's arm tightly and yanking him along.
"Door's this way," Opie says softly, an anticipatory gleam in his eye.
Everybody wants to rule the world
It's my own design
Eden Morgan sways on her feet, catching herself against the door frame of Colin Zale's office. She shakes her head, trying to clear the wave of dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. Closing her eyes, she leans her head against the cool wood, feeling the sweat dotting her upper lip. She takes several deep breaths, the sharp pain driving the vertigo away, but sending her into yet another coughing fit. She quickly draws a tissue out of her pocket, coughing into it, holding it to her mouth with one hand and gripping the frame tightly with the other, the white of her knuckles gleaming brightly as pain racks her body. Finally, the coughing stops and she pulls the tissue away, nly a few spots of blood starkly standing out amid the white this time. She shakes her head. Hugh had done his job well. Possibly too well.
Eden tosses the tissue in a trash can beside Colin's desk, wondering not for the first time if he hadn't meant to do just that, injure her to the point she couldn't finish this. He didn't know her at all.
Eden pushes away from the door frame, pushing her body to work through the pain. It would have to, there was another world of it coming in just a few days time. But she was ready.
She eyes the contents of the wall before her, frames containing certificates, winning medals in their shadow boxes, pictures of Colin and his brothers, of Colin and Spyder, of various members of the gym, of Colin and herself. Eden takes the picture of she and Colin together off the wall, studying it more closely. With her other hand, she reaches her fingers out to brush along the surface of the glass, of the two individuals inside.
Clenching her jaw, she smashes the frame against the desk, glass shattering. She drops the broken frame, pulling the picture free, the glass now unable to conceal the pride and fatherly devotion in her former mentor's face over his young pupil. She stares at herself a moment, unable to recognize the youthful exuberance shining out at her. Her lip curling in disgust, she proceeds to rip the picture into tiny pieces, leaving them lying all over the floor of his office amid broken glass and the shattered wood of the frame.
Eden walks out of the office, looking all around the dark gym around her, construction materials lying about. The echoes of flesh slapping against a mat, gloved hands firing stiff shots at a bag, shouted words of encouragement, waspish barbs slung to make her push harder, deeper, faster, better, always better, not good enough, do more, take more, give more-- as real as they had been, the sounds and memories fade to be replaced by the cold emptiness surrounding her.
“I'll make you proud,” she says in a low voice, a ghost of a smile dancing across her lips as she walks toward the back, carrying a black duffel bag with her.
It's my own remorse
Help me to decide
Jason Ingalls leans a shoulder against the lamp post across the street from Colin Zale and James Spyder's former gym. Or current gym, as it was still their gym though under construction at the moment. He pulls his cap down a little lower to hide his features, as much to conceal them as it was to hide the black eye and busted lip he still sported. Jet had shown him the way out alright, but he'd also gotten to mete out some punishment. No sooner had the door to the outside been opened than he had found himself hurled into one of the unforgiving posts on the porch, Jet quickly there with his fists driving into him.
Jase shakes his head. Jet Somers wasn't a big man but when he hit it felt like a sledgehammer driving into you. Even now, after all the ointments and pain relievers, he ached and throbbed from the beating.
It was a beating he deserved.
Jet hadn't even spoken until the end, and when he did, Jase didn't doubt a word that he said.
“You heard Cypress, but I'm telling you, if you fuck this up, there won't be anything left of you for him.”
Jase hadn't doubted his words. Something had changed in Opie-- he'd known he shouldn't have spoken, but he had to give a warning as well.
“Jet--” he'd called to Somers' retreating back. Jet had stopped in the doorway, not turning around. Jase spoke around wheezes and gasps of pain. “You-- you can't let her do this. You can't-- can't let her face Zale. You don't know-- what he is. What he-- does, what he's done. He's like--- he's worse than Mick--”
“Do your job, Ingalls, and I'll do mine,” Jet had snapped at him and walked away. Jase shakes his head.
I hope you know what you're doing, Somers.
He ceases in his thoughts when a movement catches his eye. Eden Morgan exits out the side of the gym, moving hurriedly down the sidewalk away from it, eyes cast down. She walks more swiftly through the illuminating glare of each streetlight, Jase shaking his head at the bruising and swelling of her face and neck, evident even from across the street. He had seen it briefly before she had entered the gym, but again he wondered at the cause--
At the smell of smoke, he looks across the street once more, noting growing flickering light from inside the gym she had just left, a dark cloud building within. His heart races as alarms sound, people stopping on the sidewalk and yelling, some taking out cell phones to call 911, others to video the swiftly building conflagration. Jase makes a split-second decision, rushing away from the scene to catch up to and follow the slight figure making her way deeper into the Chicago night.
Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever
The sirens sounding as they raced toward the fire did nothing to speed or slow her movements; the constant and unyielding pain she was numb to; it was the unceasing thoughts and whispers in her mind that drove her, ate at her, consumed her as the fire she had set in the gym consumed the building and the memories, the ghosts that lay there.
She barely registered the lengthy walk back to her apartment, a comfortable white buzz settling in around her. She climbed the stairs, feeling the white hot sear as nerve endings roared to life, muscles protesting the pain-filled movements. It was good.
She pulls the sock cap off her head, running a hand through her dark hair, mussing it as she approaches her door. She slips the cap under an arm as she pulls out her keys, going through the motions of unlocking her door, only to find it not only unlocked, but not even pulled to. She blinks in confusion, staring at the door knob, a dull warning screaming through her mind. Just as quickly as it comes, it's gone, Eden shaking her head, exhaustion suddenly settling over her. She pushes the door open and enters the apartment, tossing the keys on the kitchen counter.
The apartment is dark, quiet, Hugh obviously out for the evening. She had no idea where he had gone, nor did she care. She wanted the silence, craved it, needed it to calm her buzzing brain and riotous thoughts. She flicks the light on over the counter and starts to head to the bedroom when she stops short, seeing something out of the corner of her eye. For a moment, she stands there frozen, facing down the hall, looking at the door to her bedroom, the living room with its massive windows in her peripheral vision. For a moment, she has the option once again to continue on and ignore what's at the corner of her eye, to continue on and save what little is left of her already shattered mind.
Instead, she turns, knowing already what awaits her.
Ichabod had kept his end of the bargain.
Everybody wants to rule the world
There's a room where the light won't find you
Jase climbs the stairs slowly, trying not to draw her attention as she pulls her keys out, her hands visibly shaky. He waits for the sound of the keys unlocking the door to her apartment, his worry increasing exponentially as it never comes, Eden simply pushing the door inward. Warning bells sound as loudly as the sirens from the fire engines heard in the distance. He grits his teeth to keep from calling out a warning to her, his heart racing as she enters the apartment. Taking a risk, he rushes forward as she closes the door, praying silently that she's so distracted she doesn't notice the door not closing, rather hitting the toe of his booted foot. When the door isn't forced closed or yanked open to see what is impeding it, he releases his breath, debating what to do next. Through the crack in the door, he sees a light cut on. He looks up and down the hall, watching for someone to notice him and sound the alarm. The hall remains quiet, the silence in the apartment concerning him even more. Slowly, he pushes the door open, memories flooding back to him of his time living with her there, a time that seems so long ago. They had been happy--
Jase tenses seeing Eden standing in the hallway, the soft light from the kitchen at her back as she stares stiffly into the living room. He doesn't make a move, waiting for her to turn around and confront him. When she doesn't, his eyes narrow and he moves further into the apartment, closing the door softly behind him. His eyes dart about, looking for Hugh, but finding her alone. Wondering at her current state, he approaches slowly, carefully. It isn't until he's closer that he sees the shadow formed by something solid suspended from the bar holding the curtains up over the windows. His heart thunders in his chest as he moves in behind her, worry about being caught completely gone as he takes it all in.
“Oh my God.”
Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down
When they do I'll be right behind you
Distantly, Eden senses movement behind her, unable to turn away from the scene before her. Ichabod had returned the body of Ryan Hanneman, the stipulation to their match last week set forth by Quentin Barnes. When Quentin won, Ichabod had honored the agreement--- but in his own way. The decaying corpse was displayed in a macabre fashion, silhouetted against the windows, mimicking the placement off the body when it had originally been found. It was similar enough that past and present began to blend and merge, her eyes not seeing a corpse, but the fresh death mounted for her horror. The panic builds inside of her, threatening to erupt, Eden tamping it down firmly. She spins in a circle, her eyes darting around wildly, spotting Jason Ingalls standing there with her and moving past him.
He wasn't there. Colin was. Jet was. Not right.
She ignores the incorrect detail, even when it reaches out to her, its expression as horrified at the sight of her as it was at the corpse. Eden breathes heavily and then turns away, moving quickly through the apartment, slamming doors open. She enters room after room, trashing it, upending furniture and ripping pictures off the walls, throwing breakables to the floor. The sound of glass shattering echoes throughout, the incorrect detail following behind her, its lips moving, the words muted behind the roaring buzz in her head. Eden turns away, looking around and then making her way back down the hall, holding onto the walls. She lunges for the black duffel bag she was carrying earlier, digging through it to pull out two white bottles, her nails catching on the red caps and opening them. She squeezes out some of the liquid, her breath catching in gasping sobs as she hurls one of the bottles down the hall, fluid leaking out onto the carpet. Breathing heavily, she stalks into the living room, coating the hanging curtains, the body, leaving a trail of liquid, some covering her hands.
She tosses the empty bottle down, the incorrect detail there before her again, grabbing her by the shoulders, frantically speaking directly in her face. Eden cries out as his gripping fingers cause sharp pain to spread through her from the layers of welts and bruises encompassing her flesh. He pulls back, looking at her in confusion, his eyes following the visible patches of bruising down her neck that disappear beneath her shirt, comprehension dawning. Eden reaches out to him, almost accepting him as real for a moment and then stops. She spins away from the incorrect detail, stumbling into the kitchen. She stares down at the stove for a moment and then her hands are moving, turning the knobs for two of the burners to “High”, the other two to “Ignite”, leaving the flames off. The flames of the back two burners leaps to life, dancing blue for moment, mesmerizing, before she is yanked away and fires extinguished, the stove turned off.
Eden glares angrily at the back of Jason Ingalls, finally seeing him for what he was.
So glad we've almost made it
So sad they had to fade it
It takes a while for Jase to make sense of the scene before him. He had been unable to move, unable to hide himself from Eden's view, but then she didn't seem to think much of his presence here-- and then he'd seen her up close. She was a mass of injuries, various stages of bruising and welts, some from the brutal matches she had involved herself in, insisted on, the past few weeks, some much more recent. He watched her move away, discerning from the movements of her body that there was far more injury than he could see, her sleeves pushed up, revealing thin strips of bruising and welts across her arms. He's jolted back by the sounds of the apartment being torn apart. Jase follows hurriedly behind her, moving in her way, yelling at her, trying to get through to her.
“Eden, you have to stop! We have to get out of here! Eden listen to me!” he screams at her. Eden looks at him, her expression one of confusion, no understanding evident. She continues on, Jase watching with a mixture of sadness and fear as empties the remaining bottles of lighter fluid throughout the apartment. He watches as she doesn't even flinch as she pours the flammable liquid over the body of Ryan Hanneman, unsure of whether the dousing of herself was inadvertent or not. Desperate, he reaches out, grabbing her harder than he meant to, trying to get some sense into her. More than her cry of pain at his touch, it was what he fingers felt beneath the thin clothing, the bumps and ridges indicating more welts, more bruised flesh.
Cypress and Jet's warnings echo loudly in his brain, drowning out everything, Eden moving away from him toward the stove. By the time he shakes the cobwebs free, the blue flames dance brightly from two burners, the other two already leaking gas--
He springs into action, shoving her away and quickly shutting the stove down. He turns back to her, to try to talk some sense into her when she attacks him, her fist crashing against his jaw. Jase staggers back against the stove, wincing as the blow hits the same area Jet's had a few days ago. He considers his options briefly, realizing he would have to do what Cypress and Jet had warned him against. When Eden launches herself at him once more, he's ready for her. He spins her in his arms, tucking her back against his front and wrapping his arms around her head and neck as he forces her to the ground, using his body weight to hold her down while holds her stiffly with his arms at just the right angle. It isn't long before her struggles weaken and then stop entirely. Jase releases pressure and gets to his feet, looking from her unconscious form to the corpse hanging in the window.
He makes a call.
Everybody wants to rule the world
Everybody wants to rule the world
Cypress Morgan hangs up the phone on his desk and runs a large hand over his bearded face. He scratches his chin under his beard, shaking his head as he looks off distantly for a moment. With a sigh he looks back down, pulling a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it closer. He lifts the phone again and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. He's answered on the first ring.
“It's all taken care of, Ingalls. Apartment's cleaned out, just got the confirmation call. You just need to get her back over there. Put her to bed, make it look like it was all a dream or some fucking shit, I don't know,” Cypress massages his forehead, listening.
“Look, I don't answer to anyone, least of all you. Just fucking do it,” Cypress barks into the phone, listening briefly before responding in a tired voice. “No, I don't know if it'll work. Just. Fucking. Do. It.”
He hangs up, cutting Jase off, his hand resting on the now silent phone. Across the table, his eyes meet those of his Vice President and Sgt At Arms, both regarding him seriously. Cypress leans back in his chair.
“I don't know if any of it will work,” he says almost to himself, the three of them saying nothing after that.
Everybody wants to rule--- the world