Post by Mr.Ego on Mar 2, 2024 17:24:02 GMT -5
Wednesday, February 21, 2024 - Miami, Florida: Wallace/Worth Estate
Alan: Hey baby, are you alright in there?
After a few moments of silence pass, Alan pushes himself up into a seated position, and then gingerly pushes himself off the bed. Grimacing, he slowly begins walking towards the door of the master bathroom. He lightly taps the door, before grabbing the knob and turning it.
Alan: Hey Celeste? You good?
Opening the door, he sees the very beautiful - yet very pregnant - Celeste Worth seated on the commode. Calm down, she's fully clothed. Animals.
Alan: Decided just to hang out in here for a while? Are you hoping that I fall asleep before you come out, so you don't have to talk to me?
He smiles at his comment, but Celeste doesn't return the favor. In fact, the look on her face causes the smile to immediately fade from his lips.
Alan: Babe? What's wrong? Is it time?
Celeste: Yes, it's time. Time for you to help me off this godforsaken seat and help me to bed. I've been sitting here for fifteen minutes!
Alan: Why didn't you holler for me, babe? I've been out there waiting on you. I thought you were still finishing up your showe-
Her glare caused him to immediately stop speaking, and though he wasn't sure what he had done, he knew he was somehow at fault.
Celeste: I shouldn't have had to holler for you! You should have just known!
Tilting his head slightly to the side, he goes against all wisdom by actually responding.
Alan: It's not like I'm clairvoyant, Celeste.
Celeste: Just shut up and help me to bed!
He half-nods as he leans over and wraps his arm around her, grabbing her arm with his free hand. Gingerly pulling her to her feet, he begins walking her out into the bedroom, grimacing in pain multiple times in the process. Celeste looks up at him unimpressed.
Celeste: Awww, it sounds like you're in quite an amount of pain…
Alan doesn't pick up on her tone because, well, he's a man.
Alan: You have no idea, babe. I feel like I've been hit by a truck. That match with Donovan really took a toll on me this week.
Celeste: Yes. I can't imagine how much discomfort you are in. It must be pure torture.
She said it as flat as humanly possible. Alan continues helping her over towards the bed.
Alan: You can say that again. I'll tell ya baby, I hope you never suffer through the amount of pain that I'm currently going through. I don't know if you'd be able to handle it. I'm miserable!
Having just sat down on the bed, Celeste jerks her arm away from Alan.
Celeste: Are you fucking serious right now?!
Alan is confused, because of course he is.
Alan: What do you mean, my dear?
Celeste: I am on the verge of giving birth in a few weeks. I'm as big as a house, and my back has hurt for basically the entirety of the last four months. My ankles are swollen, my hands are swollen, and I might as well have two chins. And to top it off, this kid plays bongos on my bladder about every two hours, which means I must struggle to get to my feet and then waddle as quickly as possible to the bathroom and pray that I make it. And you are the one who is miserable?!
Alan begins to hem and haw, trying to find the right thing to say, but knowing he likely won't. And let's face it, we all know he won't.
Alan: Well… I mean… you… see… I just… what are you talking about baby? I think your chins are adorable.
Yup. Called that one.
Celeste glares at him for a moment, before grabbing his pillow and throwing it at him.
Celeste: Have fun in the guest room, jackass.
Alan sighs, and somewhere out there Holden audibly scoffs in laughter.
====================
Tuesday, February 27, 2024 - Miami, Florida
Simon: Who's there?!
Simon slowly makes his way through the darkened house, tightly grasping the baseball bat that he had grabbed when he first heard the ruckus in the kitchen. Nearing the source of the noises, he reaches over and flicks on the light.
Simon: I asked who was there?!
Standing in front of the sink sipping on a cup of coffee is 'Vain' Alan Wallace. Simon reaches out and braces himself on the wall.
Simon: Christ Almighty, Alan. You almost gave me a heart attack!
Alan chuckles at the reaction.
Alan: Christ, eh? Simon, you're a learned man. I didn't know you took stock in such things.
He begins walking over towards the table, pulling out the first chair he comes to and taking a seat.
Alan: You're giving off some weird-assed Ooley vibes, Simon. If you start calling me 'Humble', I'm leaving.
Simon sighs as he props the baseball bat against the wall, and then makes his way over to the table as well.
Simon: I don't even know why you're here anyway, Alan.
Alan almost spits out the coffee he had just taken a drink of and looks at him incredulously.
Alan: I know I've given you the last two weeks off but get it together Wellington! You know Wednesdays are when we meet to discuss the coming week's match. How bad of a concussion did you suffer?
Simon leans forward and rests his left forearm on the table, while pinching the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and forefinger.
Simon: I'm fully aware of our normal schedule, Alan… but it's the middle of the night!
Alan: And I am fully aware of that fact, Simon… but Celeste has been a goddamn nightmare the last week or so, and I needed a break.
Simon: I can't believe she hasn't had that child yet. Sounds like he is going to be just as hard-headed as his father.
Alan: Hey now. It could be a 'she', you know?
Simon: I find it odd that people still choose to be surprised by the sex of their kids. Wouldn't knowing make things so much easier?
Alan laughs before taking another sip of coffee. He chuckles a bit more as he places the cup back on the table.
Alan: Oh, it definitely would be a whole hell of a lot easier, yes.
Simon: Then why didn't you guys find out?
Alan: Have you met Celeste?
Simon: Touché.
Simon rises to his feet and makes his way over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup once he grabs a clean mug. Making his way back over, he retakes his seat at the table. Alan glances over at him.
Alan: So how are you feeling, Simon?
Simon: I'm doing much better, Alan, thanks. Clean bill of health at yesterday's doctor's appointment. Fortunately, there was no additional damage done to my neck, and I passed all the tests that he put me through for the whole concussion protocol deal.
Alan: That's really good to hear, Simon. I'm glad.
Simon: Yes, me too, Alan. Me too.
The two men then enjoy their coffee in silence for a few moments, before Simon looks back over at his friend and client.
Simon: I saw that you're teaming with Zane Scott this week.
Alan: That I am. The two most important members of 'The Syndicate', teaming once more. You love to see it.
Simon: Zane is a good man, Alan. He always has been.
Alan: I concur. And I'm glad you feel that way, because I thought we might pay him a visit this week, see how he is doing.
Simon appears to mull it over for a few seconds.
Simon: Well I do have a clean bill of health. And it has been quite a while since I visited Poughkeepsie. So sure, that sounds like a great idea.
Alan: Yeah, Poughkeepsie. That's exactly right. Great place. I, for one, love going there.
Sometime Later
Alan looks comfortable enough as Vain Force One barrels through the early-morning sky. His seat is reclined back just far enough for maximum comfortability; his custom-made gold-colored sleep mask is blocking out all signs of light, as it was intended to do; and the earbuds he has in his ears are playing one of his favorite songs, his very own rendition of 'We Are the World', which he recorded during the lead-up to his UGWC World Heavyweight Championship defense against Kem Dynamo at Horizons to close out 2018.
A successful championship defense, obviously.
Alas, the longer he sits there unable to get back to sleep, the more he begins to fidget, until he finally cannot take it anymore. Lifting his sleep mask, he sees Simon Wellington staring directly at him.
Alan: And people say you can't feel it when someone is staring at you…
Taking off the mask, Alan then moves his seat back to its proper position, before removing his earbuds.
Alan: Didn't your mother ever tell you not to watch others sleep, Simon? It's exceedingly creepy.
Simon doesn't say anything, instead choosing to continue sitting there staring at Alan.
Alan: Stop it, Simon. You're skeeving me out.
Crossing his right leg over his left, Simon finally breaks his silence.
Simon: I trust you had a good nap, Alan?
Alan half-shrugs as he grabs the half-empty bottle of VEEN that had been resting in his lap and removes the top, taking a long - yet completely unsatisfying - drink.
Alan: Well, I was quite enjoying it until I felt someone eye-fucking the ever-loving shit out of me, yeah. And then I had to wake up to vile, tepid water.
Simon: Oh no, however will you be able to move on from this travesty, Alan?
Wallace looks at him for a moment, somewhat surprised by his attitude.
Alan: Is something bothering you, Simon?
Simon: Whatever would give you that idea, Alan?
Alan sighs before taking another drink of his water, immediately regretting it.
Alan: Out with it, Simon. I already have a pregnant wife at home who thinks I should be a mind reader. I don't need to fulfill that same role with you. You're an adult, use your words.
Simon: I take issue with this trip, Alan.
Alan: And why is that, Simon? You said yourself that visiting Zane sounded like a great idea. I figured you would be enjoying yourself.
Simon: Technically, I said that visiting Poughkeepsie sounded like a great idea, though I wasn't aware that we needed to leave right then and there.
Alan: What? You had an hour to pack. How is that not enough time?
Simon: Correction. We had an hour to get to the airport for takeoff. I had only thirty minutes to pack.
Alan: And you did such a great job packing on such short notice, Simon. Kudos for that.
Simon: Yes, packing in the middle of the night for a last-minute trip to New York at the end of February is exactly how I wanted to spend my time. Who needs sleep anyway?
Alan: That's the spirit!
Simon: But that brings me to my second issue.
Alan smirks slightly, though he isn't sure if Simon caught it.
Alan: And that second issue is?
Simon: We have been in the air far too long to not have already touched down, Alan.
Alan: Is that so?
Simon: Yes, it is.
Alan: Interesting. Hmm, maybe it's storming?
Simon: Not a cloud in the sky, Alan.
Alan: Ferocious headwinds?
Simon: Really? On a flight from Miami to New York?
Alan: Did John decide to take a nap?
Simon: I'm sure that your pilot would never nap during a flight, Alan.
Alan: I mean, he has a co-pilot. Then again, Mark isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so relying on him likely isn't a good idea.
Simon is beginning to grow flustered.
Simon: Enough of the nonsense, Alan. What is going on?
Alan smiles as he begins reclining his seat once more.
Alan: Calm down, Simon. We'll be landing at BZN soon enough.
Alan continues smiling as he places the sleep mask back over his face. Across from him, Simon's face is a mask of confusion.
Simon: BZN? Wait… Bozeman?
Alan: Get some rest, Simon. We have a log couple of days in front of us.
Alan slips the earbuds back into his ears and does his best to get comfortable.
Simon: Why are we going to Montana?!
====================
Thursday, February 29, 2024 - Montana
Alan: How can you still be angry?
Alan looks over at his travel companion from the passenger seat, as Simon Wellington white-knuckles the steering wheel as the car makes its way down I-90. Alan chuckles under his breath.
Alan: You grip that steering wheel any tighter and it might snap in two, Simon.
Simon grits his teeth.
Simon: You're an ass. You do realize that, yes?
Alan: Why thank you, Simon. That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me.
Simon: I'm not in the mood, Alan. I still don't understand why you dragged me halfway across the country when I should have been sleeping in my own bed.
Alan: I told you I wanted to pay Zane a visit.
Simon: But why Montana, Alan?
Alan half-shrugs as he turns his head and looks out the window.
Alan: That's where Zane is.
Simon: And we couldn't wait for him to return to Poughkeepsie? Or better yet, just met up with him in Chicago?
Alan: And where is the fun in that, Simon?
The car continues down the road, Simon gripping the wheel even tighter. After a few moments, Alan perks up.
Alan: Take this next exit, Simon It's an emergency!
Simon: I told you that you should have gone before we left, Alan!
Alan: Just take the exit!
Alan reaches over and grabs the wheel, 'helping' Simon to ensure they don't pass the exit.
Simon: Have you lost your mind?!?!
Alan: Just drive. I'll tell you where to go.
Sometime Later
The two men stand outside of a beautiful log cabin, Alan all smiles, as Simon looks at him in disbelief.
Simon: It's mind boggling to know that was the emergency, Alan.
Alan: When in Rome, Simon…
Simon: I can't believe you bought a red cowboy hat.
Alan: Hello? I'm wearing a red turtleneck-
Simon: I never knew you were a turtleneck guy if I'm being honest.
Alan: Plus, it was the only men's 'sexy' they had.
Simon: That definitely isn't a size option.
Alan puffs out his chest as he places his thumbs in his pants pockets and begins to tap on his belt buckle with his forefingers.
Simon: Will you please take that stupid hat off?
Alan shakes his head from side-to-side.
Alan: No, I want to blend in.
Simon: To what? Toy Story?
Alan: You are a funny, funny guy, Simon.
Simon: Can you at least take off that ridiculous fake mustache?
Just as Simon asks that last question, the door swings open, Zane Scott engulfing the entirety of the doorframe. This is what he sees, if Alan Wallace were an aerospace engineer with a degree from MIT and wasn't built like a Greek god.
Zane: You two coming in, or are you going to stand out here all night looking like…
Zane motions towards Alan.
Zane: ... the love child of “Toy Story” and “Magic Mike”...?!
Simon: I want to immediately go on record and apologize, Mr. Scott. For… that, and whatever else might transpire during our visit.
Zane: Thank you. You guys want something to drink?
Zane turns and heads towards the kitchen, as Alan and Simon follow him inside.
Simon: Uh, no, thank you.
Alan: If y'all don't mind, I got a real hankerin' for a Lone Star beer.
Zane: You aren't in Texas, Alan.
Alan brings his finger to his lips and lightly begins tapping, as he also begins tapping his foot on the hardwood floor, the sound of the spurs on his boots jingling loudly.
Alan: Well then, if y'all don't mind, I got a real hankerin' for a Moose Drool beer.
Simon drops his head in shame, sadly shaking it back and forth. Zane chuckles in spite of himself.
Zane: There's no beer in the house, Alan. When I want beer, I go to the restaurant I sometimes bounce at. The only booze here is whiskey. Also stop talking like that and lose that godforsaken hat.[/color]
Alan: My apologies, partn… Mr. Scott. I'll take a VEEN if you have it.
Zane: I have tap water.
Alan visibly shudders.
Alan: Whiskey it is.
Zane nods and then heads over to a small bar area, while Simon and Alan take a seat.
Sometime Even Later
Alan: I must say, Mr. Scott… while I am not a big drinker, this is mighty tasty.
Zane smirks at him, as he watches Alan take another sip.
Zane: You realize the straw isn’t necessary, right Alan?
Alan: But it makes it so much more festive, Mr. Scott. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?
Simon: I’m still trying to figure out why you pack your own personal umbrella straws.
Alan begins to laugh, much more jovially than we normally see, but he quickly regains his composure.
Alan: So what is this that I’m drinking, Mr. Scott? That way I can keep it in mind when I return to Miami.
Zane: It’s called Whistlepig, Alan. Small Batch Rye. Aged 10 years.
Alan: It’s delicious. I always assumed whiskey burned, but frankly, there’s no burn at all.
Zane: I don’t drink cheap whiskey, Alan.
Alan: Well that is something that I appreciates about you, Mr. Scott.
Simon: You might want to take it easy, Alan. You aren’t used to drinking, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s 100 proof.
Alan: Allegedlys.
Zane: No, Simon is right, Alan.
Alan finishes off what is in his glass, and then looks over at Zane. Zane glances at Simon, before shaking his head and pouring him another.
Zane: To what do I owe the honor, Alan?
Alan looks at him quizzically as he takes another long drink from his straw, only blinking in response. Zane takes a large breath, exhaling slowly.
Zane: Why are you here, Alan?
Alan: Can’t a guy… just visit another guy… with a third guy tagging along… so we can all talk about guy things?
Simon: We may have to cut him off, Zane.
Alan: It’s a long walk back to Miami, and I suggest you let that one marinate!
Zane: As much as I… enjoy… your antics Alan, couldn’t those ‘guy things’ have been discussed in Chicago on Monday?
Alan leans forward, putting his hand up to his mouth before speaking.
Alan: I knew that you were recuperating, and I wanted to check in to see how you were.
Simon: If that was an attempt at a whisper, you failed miserably, Alan.
Zane: I’ll be fine, Alan. You don’t have to worry about Monday.
Alan: Worried? I’m never worried when it comes to you, Mr. Scott. You are the greatest Cross-Hemisphere Champion that isn’t named Alan Wallace or Phrixus Deimos.
Zane furrows his brow at the comment, as Vain begins laughing hysterically.
Alan: What kind… of name… is Phrixus? HAHAHAHAHAH, it sounds like the name of a cartoon cat. Phrixus the Cat!
Simon: I think you mean Felix the Cat, Alan.
Zane: It sounds like a Primus song.
Alan: That’s what I said, Phrixus the Cat! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
A slight smile tugs at the corner of Zane’s mouth.
Zane: I take that as a compliment, Alan. A backhanded one, but a compliment all the same. And I suppose that I should congratulate you on successfully defending the World Championship against Donovan Hastings. I have gone to battle with Donovan many times over the years, and he isn’t easy to defeat. So, congratulations on defeating him at Infinity.
The joy on Alan’s face falters.
Alan: I appreciate that, Mr. Scott. Especially coming from someone who I respect so much.
Zane lifts his glass and tilts it towards Alan, before taking a sip and placing it back down on the table.
Alan: But I only did exactly what I said I would, and that is prove that I am simply better than Donovan Hastings. Frankly, Donovan Hastings is old news. ‘The Vain One’ yearns to look forward.
Simon: To Matt Knox?
Alan: Pipe down, Simon. The adults are speaking.
Zane: Simon has a point, Alan. Matt Knox is a formidable opponent and is now the number one contender for your World Title.
Alan lifts his hand up in front of his face and begins waving it back and forth. He about goes cross-eyed.
Alan: Knox can’t see me.
Simon: I might be mistaken, but I think that may be copyrighted, Alan.
Alan: No, I mean he can’t see me. Not clearly anyway. He keeps having people throw fireballs in his face. It’s had to have done some damage.
Alan begins whispering the word fireball over and over, throwing him into another fit of laughter. Zane and Simon look at each other wearily.
Zane: Then what are you focusing on in the immediate future, Alan?
Alan: Monday, of course!
Zane: The Captain and The Moron?
Alan: Precisely! The Fuckstick of the Falcor and The King of Stupid Style!
Zane: That’s… fitting.
Alan finishes off his glass of whiskey, his fake mustache now barely attached to his face.
Alan: Not that I expect it to be ex… extrem… extreme… that difficult to defeat them. I mean, Donovan and I beatseded them not long ago, so it should be a cakewalk for you and me. Mmmm… cake.
Simon: Careful, Alan. If you say it a third time, NBK might appear.
Zane: While I view both as little more than a comedy duo that isn’t funny, stranger things have happened, Alan. The Captain has whatever forces he has behind him, and as idiotic as The King of Stupid Style is, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to trip over his own two feet and fall into a pin attempt. Especially with the power of the Falcor behind him.
Simon: Or the Err Bear.
Zane: That too.
The light in Vain’s face fades, and his mouth contorts into a painful looking grimace. Normal people call it frowning.
Simon: What’s wrong, Alan?
Alan: You mentioned NBK. Which reminded me of Forewell. Which reminded me of Trav. And I miss that guy.
Zane: Isn’t he back now?
Alan pays the question no attention as he rises to his feet, and unsteadily makes his way into the living room.
Alan: I think I’s going to lay down for a minute. The room is… spinny.
With that, Alan faceplants onto the sofa in the living room. Simon sighs.
Simon: I guess that’s my queue to get Mr. Inebriated back to our hotel.
Zane dismisses him with a wave of his hand.
Zane: Trust me Simon, you don’t want him riding in a vehicle right now. There is a guest room in the back, down the hall. You're free to use it. Alan isn’t going anywhere.
Simon: Thank you, Zane.
The two men rise to their feet and shake hands. Simon turns and heads through the living area and down the hall, shaking his head as he looks over at Alan. Zane grabs the kitchen trash can and walks over and places it beside the couch.
Zane: Make sure you get it all in the trash can, Alan.
Alan mumbles something in return, but it can’t be made out due to his face being buried in the cushion. Zane chuckles, before turning and heading towards his bedroom.
The Next Morning
An obviously hungover Alan Wallace has awakened and groggily headed into the kitchen. Opening the door of the refrigerator, his eyes go wide. Before him is a refrigerator that is completely full of bottles of VEEN water. Checking the digital temperature gauge, he sees that the fridge is set to a precise forty-three degrees.
Alan: You have got to be kidding me?
Zane stands in the doorway, a smile on his face.
Zane: I guess I did have VEEN.
Alan turns and looks at him in shock.
Zane: I had a feeling that you were going to pay me a visit at some point, so I wanted to be prepared. Then Celeste got in touch with me and told me that you left her by herself in her current state to pay me said visit. So, we figured we would have a bit of fun with you.
Alan: I have no words…
Zane: Feel free to grab a couple. You look like you need it.
Zane turns and begins making his way back towards his room, then calls out over his shoulder.
Zane: Call your wife, Alan. And be sure that you have a proper apology ready to go.
The sound of a door shutting is heard, as Vain turns back towards the fridge and grabs three bottles of water.
Alan: Fuck…
FIN
Alan: Hey baby, are you alright in there?
After a few moments of silence pass, Alan pushes himself up into a seated position, and then gingerly pushes himself off the bed. Grimacing, he slowly begins walking towards the door of the master bathroom. He lightly taps the door, before grabbing the knob and turning it.
Alan: Hey Celeste? You good?
Opening the door, he sees the very beautiful - yet very pregnant - Celeste Worth seated on the commode. Calm down, she's fully clothed. Animals.
Alan: Decided just to hang out in here for a while? Are you hoping that I fall asleep before you come out, so you don't have to talk to me?
He smiles at his comment, but Celeste doesn't return the favor. In fact, the look on her face causes the smile to immediately fade from his lips.
Alan: Babe? What's wrong? Is it time?
Celeste: Yes, it's time. Time for you to help me off this godforsaken seat and help me to bed. I've been sitting here for fifteen minutes!
Alan: Why didn't you holler for me, babe? I've been out there waiting on you. I thought you were still finishing up your showe-
Her glare caused him to immediately stop speaking, and though he wasn't sure what he had done, he knew he was somehow at fault.
Celeste: I shouldn't have had to holler for you! You should have just known!
Tilting his head slightly to the side, he goes against all wisdom by actually responding.
Alan: It's not like I'm clairvoyant, Celeste.
Celeste: Just shut up and help me to bed!
He half-nods as he leans over and wraps his arm around her, grabbing her arm with his free hand. Gingerly pulling her to her feet, he begins walking her out into the bedroom, grimacing in pain multiple times in the process. Celeste looks up at him unimpressed.
Celeste: Awww, it sounds like you're in quite an amount of pain…
Alan doesn't pick up on her tone because, well, he's a man.
Alan: You have no idea, babe. I feel like I've been hit by a truck. That match with Donovan really took a toll on me this week.
Celeste: Yes. I can't imagine how much discomfort you are in. It must be pure torture.
She said it as flat as humanly possible. Alan continues helping her over towards the bed.
Alan: You can say that again. I'll tell ya baby, I hope you never suffer through the amount of pain that I'm currently going through. I don't know if you'd be able to handle it. I'm miserable!
Having just sat down on the bed, Celeste jerks her arm away from Alan.
Celeste: Are you fucking serious right now?!
Alan is confused, because of course he is.
Alan: What do you mean, my dear?
Celeste: I am on the verge of giving birth in a few weeks. I'm as big as a house, and my back has hurt for basically the entirety of the last four months. My ankles are swollen, my hands are swollen, and I might as well have two chins. And to top it off, this kid plays bongos on my bladder about every two hours, which means I must struggle to get to my feet and then waddle as quickly as possible to the bathroom and pray that I make it. And you are the one who is miserable?!
Alan begins to hem and haw, trying to find the right thing to say, but knowing he likely won't. And let's face it, we all know he won't.
Alan: Well… I mean… you… see… I just… what are you talking about baby? I think your chins are adorable.
Yup. Called that one.
Celeste glares at him for a moment, before grabbing his pillow and throwing it at him.
Celeste: Have fun in the guest room, jackass.
Alan sighs, and somewhere out there Holden audibly scoffs in laughter.
====================
Tuesday, February 27, 2024 - Miami, Florida
Simon: Who's there?!
Simon slowly makes his way through the darkened house, tightly grasping the baseball bat that he had grabbed when he first heard the ruckus in the kitchen. Nearing the source of the noises, he reaches over and flicks on the light.
Simon: I asked who was there?!
Standing in front of the sink sipping on a cup of coffee is 'Vain' Alan Wallace. Simon reaches out and braces himself on the wall.
Simon: Christ Almighty, Alan. You almost gave me a heart attack!
Alan chuckles at the reaction.
Alan: Christ, eh? Simon, you're a learned man. I didn't know you took stock in such things.
He begins walking over towards the table, pulling out the first chair he comes to and taking a seat.
Alan: You're giving off some weird-assed Ooley vibes, Simon. If you start calling me 'Humble', I'm leaving.
Simon sighs as he props the baseball bat against the wall, and then makes his way over to the table as well.
Simon: I don't even know why you're here anyway, Alan.
Alan almost spits out the coffee he had just taken a drink of and looks at him incredulously.
Alan: I know I've given you the last two weeks off but get it together Wellington! You know Wednesdays are when we meet to discuss the coming week's match. How bad of a concussion did you suffer?
Simon leans forward and rests his left forearm on the table, while pinching the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and forefinger.
Simon: I'm fully aware of our normal schedule, Alan… but it's the middle of the night!
Alan: And I am fully aware of that fact, Simon… but Celeste has been a goddamn nightmare the last week or so, and I needed a break.
Simon: I can't believe she hasn't had that child yet. Sounds like he is going to be just as hard-headed as his father.
Alan: Hey now. It could be a 'she', you know?
Simon: I find it odd that people still choose to be surprised by the sex of their kids. Wouldn't knowing make things so much easier?
Alan laughs before taking another sip of coffee. He chuckles a bit more as he places the cup back on the table.
Alan: Oh, it definitely would be a whole hell of a lot easier, yes.
Simon: Then why didn't you guys find out?
Alan: Have you met Celeste?
Simon: Touché.
Simon rises to his feet and makes his way over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup once he grabs a clean mug. Making his way back over, he retakes his seat at the table. Alan glances over at him.
Alan: So how are you feeling, Simon?
Simon: I'm doing much better, Alan, thanks. Clean bill of health at yesterday's doctor's appointment. Fortunately, there was no additional damage done to my neck, and I passed all the tests that he put me through for the whole concussion protocol deal.
Alan: That's really good to hear, Simon. I'm glad.
Simon: Yes, me too, Alan. Me too.
The two men then enjoy their coffee in silence for a few moments, before Simon looks back over at his friend and client.
Simon: I saw that you're teaming with Zane Scott this week.
Alan: That I am. The two most important members of 'The Syndicate', teaming once more. You love to see it.
Simon: Zane is a good man, Alan. He always has been.
Alan: I concur. And I'm glad you feel that way, because I thought we might pay him a visit this week, see how he is doing.
Simon appears to mull it over for a few seconds.
Simon: Well I do have a clean bill of health. And it has been quite a while since I visited Poughkeepsie. So sure, that sounds like a great idea.
Alan: Yeah, Poughkeepsie. That's exactly right. Great place. I, for one, love going there.
Sometime Later
Alan looks comfortable enough as Vain Force One barrels through the early-morning sky. His seat is reclined back just far enough for maximum comfortability; his custom-made gold-colored sleep mask is blocking out all signs of light, as it was intended to do; and the earbuds he has in his ears are playing one of his favorite songs, his very own rendition of 'We Are the World', which he recorded during the lead-up to his UGWC World Heavyweight Championship defense against Kem Dynamo at Horizons to close out 2018.
A successful championship defense, obviously.
Alas, the longer he sits there unable to get back to sleep, the more he begins to fidget, until he finally cannot take it anymore. Lifting his sleep mask, he sees Simon Wellington staring directly at him.
Alan: And people say you can't feel it when someone is staring at you…
Taking off the mask, Alan then moves his seat back to its proper position, before removing his earbuds.
Alan: Didn't your mother ever tell you not to watch others sleep, Simon? It's exceedingly creepy.
Simon doesn't say anything, instead choosing to continue sitting there staring at Alan.
Alan: Stop it, Simon. You're skeeving me out.
Crossing his right leg over his left, Simon finally breaks his silence.
Simon: I trust you had a good nap, Alan?
Alan half-shrugs as he grabs the half-empty bottle of VEEN that had been resting in his lap and removes the top, taking a long - yet completely unsatisfying - drink.
Alan: Well, I was quite enjoying it until I felt someone eye-fucking the ever-loving shit out of me, yeah. And then I had to wake up to vile, tepid water.
Simon: Oh no, however will you be able to move on from this travesty, Alan?
Wallace looks at him for a moment, somewhat surprised by his attitude.
Alan: Is something bothering you, Simon?
Simon: Whatever would give you that idea, Alan?
Alan sighs before taking another drink of his water, immediately regretting it.
Alan: Out with it, Simon. I already have a pregnant wife at home who thinks I should be a mind reader. I don't need to fulfill that same role with you. You're an adult, use your words.
Simon: I take issue with this trip, Alan.
Alan: And why is that, Simon? You said yourself that visiting Zane sounded like a great idea. I figured you would be enjoying yourself.
Simon: Technically, I said that visiting Poughkeepsie sounded like a great idea, though I wasn't aware that we needed to leave right then and there.
Alan: What? You had an hour to pack. How is that not enough time?
Simon: Correction. We had an hour to get to the airport for takeoff. I had only thirty minutes to pack.
Alan: And you did such a great job packing on such short notice, Simon. Kudos for that.
Simon: Yes, packing in the middle of the night for a last-minute trip to New York at the end of February is exactly how I wanted to spend my time. Who needs sleep anyway?
Alan: That's the spirit!
Simon: But that brings me to my second issue.
Alan smirks slightly, though he isn't sure if Simon caught it.
Alan: And that second issue is?
Simon: We have been in the air far too long to not have already touched down, Alan.
Alan: Is that so?
Simon: Yes, it is.
Alan: Interesting. Hmm, maybe it's storming?
Simon: Not a cloud in the sky, Alan.
Alan: Ferocious headwinds?
Simon: Really? On a flight from Miami to New York?
Alan: Did John decide to take a nap?
Simon: I'm sure that your pilot would never nap during a flight, Alan.
Alan: I mean, he has a co-pilot. Then again, Mark isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so relying on him likely isn't a good idea.
Simon is beginning to grow flustered.
Simon: Enough of the nonsense, Alan. What is going on?
Alan smiles as he begins reclining his seat once more.
Alan: Calm down, Simon. We'll be landing at BZN soon enough.
Alan continues smiling as he places the sleep mask back over his face. Across from him, Simon's face is a mask of confusion.
Simon: BZN? Wait… Bozeman?
Alan: Get some rest, Simon. We have a log couple of days in front of us.
Alan slips the earbuds back into his ears and does his best to get comfortable.
Simon: Why are we going to Montana?!
====================
Thursday, February 29, 2024 - Montana
Alan: How can you still be angry?
Alan looks over at his travel companion from the passenger seat, as Simon Wellington white-knuckles the steering wheel as the car makes its way down I-90. Alan chuckles under his breath.
Alan: You grip that steering wheel any tighter and it might snap in two, Simon.
Simon grits his teeth.
Simon: You're an ass. You do realize that, yes?
Alan: Why thank you, Simon. That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me.
Simon: I'm not in the mood, Alan. I still don't understand why you dragged me halfway across the country when I should have been sleeping in my own bed.
Alan: I told you I wanted to pay Zane a visit.
Simon: But why Montana, Alan?
Alan half-shrugs as he turns his head and looks out the window.
Alan: That's where Zane is.
Simon: And we couldn't wait for him to return to Poughkeepsie? Or better yet, just met up with him in Chicago?
Alan: And where is the fun in that, Simon?
The car continues down the road, Simon gripping the wheel even tighter. After a few moments, Alan perks up.
Alan: Take this next exit, Simon It's an emergency!
Simon: I told you that you should have gone before we left, Alan!
Alan: Just take the exit!
Alan reaches over and grabs the wheel, 'helping' Simon to ensure they don't pass the exit.
Simon: Have you lost your mind?!?!
Alan: Just drive. I'll tell you where to go.
Sometime Later
The two men stand outside of a beautiful log cabin, Alan all smiles, as Simon looks at him in disbelief.
Simon: It's mind boggling to know that was the emergency, Alan.
Alan: When in Rome, Simon…
Simon: I can't believe you bought a red cowboy hat.
Alan: Hello? I'm wearing a red turtleneck-
Simon: I never knew you were a turtleneck guy if I'm being honest.
Alan: Plus, it was the only men's 'sexy' they had.
Simon: That definitely isn't a size option.
Alan puffs out his chest as he places his thumbs in his pants pockets and begins to tap on his belt buckle with his forefingers.
Simon: Will you please take that stupid hat off?
Alan shakes his head from side-to-side.
Alan: No, I want to blend in.
Simon: To what? Toy Story?
Alan: You are a funny, funny guy, Simon.
Simon: Can you at least take off that ridiculous fake mustache?
Just as Simon asks that last question, the door swings open, Zane Scott engulfing the entirety of the doorframe. This is what he sees, if Alan Wallace were an aerospace engineer with a degree from MIT and wasn't built like a Greek god.
[
Zane: You two coming in, or are you going to stand out here all night looking like…
Zane motions towards Alan.
Zane: ... the love child of “Toy Story” and “Magic Mike”...?!
Simon: I want to immediately go on record and apologize, Mr. Scott. For… that, and whatever else might transpire during our visit.
Zane: Thank you. You guys want something to drink?
Zane turns and heads towards the kitchen, as Alan and Simon follow him inside.
Simon: Uh, no, thank you.
Alan: If y'all don't mind, I got a real hankerin' for a Lone Star beer.
Zane: You aren't in Texas, Alan.
Alan brings his finger to his lips and lightly begins tapping, as he also begins tapping his foot on the hardwood floor, the sound of the spurs on his boots jingling loudly.
Alan: Well then, if y'all don't mind, I got a real hankerin' for a Moose Drool beer.
Simon drops his head in shame, sadly shaking it back and forth. Zane chuckles in spite of himself.
Zane: There's no beer in the house, Alan. When I want beer, I go to the restaurant I sometimes bounce at. The only booze here is whiskey. Also stop talking like that and lose that godforsaken hat.[/color]
Alan: My apologies, partn… Mr. Scott. I'll take a VEEN if you have it.
Zane: I have tap water.
Alan visibly shudders.
Alan: Whiskey it is.
Zane nods and then heads over to a small bar area, while Simon and Alan take a seat.
Sometime Even Later
Alan: I must say, Mr. Scott… while I am not a big drinker, this is mighty tasty.
Zane smirks at him, as he watches Alan take another sip.
Zane: You realize the straw isn’t necessary, right Alan?
Alan: But it makes it so much more festive, Mr. Scott. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?
Simon: I’m still trying to figure out why you pack your own personal umbrella straws.
Alan begins to laugh, much more jovially than we normally see, but he quickly regains his composure.
Alan: So what is this that I’m drinking, Mr. Scott? That way I can keep it in mind when I return to Miami.
Zane: It’s called Whistlepig, Alan. Small Batch Rye. Aged 10 years.
Alan: It’s delicious. I always assumed whiskey burned, but frankly, there’s no burn at all.
Zane: I don’t drink cheap whiskey, Alan.
Alan: Well that is something that I appreciates about you, Mr. Scott.
Simon: You might want to take it easy, Alan. You aren’t used to drinking, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s 100 proof.
Alan: Allegedlys.
Zane: No, Simon is right, Alan.
Alan finishes off what is in his glass, and then looks over at Zane. Zane glances at Simon, before shaking his head and pouring him another.
Zane: To what do I owe the honor, Alan?
Alan looks at him quizzically as he takes another long drink from his straw, only blinking in response. Zane takes a large breath, exhaling slowly.
Zane: Why are you here, Alan?
Alan: Can’t a guy… just visit another guy… with a third guy tagging along… so we can all talk about guy things?
Simon: We may have to cut him off, Zane.
Alan: It’s a long walk back to Miami, and I suggest you let that one marinate!
Zane: As much as I… enjoy… your antics Alan, couldn’t those ‘guy things’ have been discussed in Chicago on Monday?
Alan leans forward, putting his hand up to his mouth before speaking.
Alan: I knew that you were recuperating, and I wanted to check in to see how you were.
Simon: If that was an attempt at a whisper, you failed miserably, Alan.
Zane: I’ll be fine, Alan. You don’t have to worry about Monday.
Alan: Worried? I’m never worried when it comes to you, Mr. Scott. You are the greatest Cross-Hemisphere Champion that isn’t named Alan Wallace or Phrixus Deimos.
Zane furrows his brow at the comment, as Vain begins laughing hysterically.
Alan: What kind… of name… is Phrixus? HAHAHAHAHAH, it sounds like the name of a cartoon cat. Phrixus the Cat!
Simon: I think you mean Felix the Cat, Alan.
Zane: It sounds like a Primus song.
Alan: That’s what I said, Phrixus the Cat! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
A slight smile tugs at the corner of Zane’s mouth.
Zane: I take that as a compliment, Alan. A backhanded one, but a compliment all the same. And I suppose that I should congratulate you on successfully defending the World Championship against Donovan Hastings. I have gone to battle with Donovan many times over the years, and he isn’t easy to defeat. So, congratulations on defeating him at Infinity.
The joy on Alan’s face falters.
Alan: I appreciate that, Mr. Scott. Especially coming from someone who I respect so much.
Zane lifts his glass and tilts it towards Alan, before taking a sip and placing it back down on the table.
Alan: But I only did exactly what I said I would, and that is prove that I am simply better than Donovan Hastings. Frankly, Donovan Hastings is old news. ‘The Vain One’ yearns to look forward.
Simon: To Matt Knox?
Alan: Pipe down, Simon. The adults are speaking.
Zane: Simon has a point, Alan. Matt Knox is a formidable opponent and is now the number one contender for your World Title.
Alan lifts his hand up in front of his face and begins waving it back and forth. He about goes cross-eyed.
Alan: Knox can’t see me.
Simon: I might be mistaken, but I think that may be copyrighted, Alan.
Alan: No, I mean he can’t see me. Not clearly anyway. He keeps having people throw fireballs in his face. It’s had to have done some damage.
Alan begins whispering the word fireball over and over, throwing him into another fit of laughter. Zane and Simon look at each other wearily.
Zane: Then what are you focusing on in the immediate future, Alan?
Alan: Monday, of course!
Zane: The Captain and The Moron?
Alan: Precisely! The Fuckstick of the Falcor and The King of Stupid Style!
Zane: That’s… fitting.
Alan finishes off his glass of whiskey, his fake mustache now barely attached to his face.
Alan: Not that I expect it to be ex… extrem… extreme… that difficult to defeat them. I mean, Donovan and I beatseded them not long ago, so it should be a cakewalk for you and me. Mmmm… cake.
Simon: Careful, Alan. If you say it a third time, NBK might appear.
Zane: While I view both as little more than a comedy duo that isn’t funny, stranger things have happened, Alan. The Captain has whatever forces he has behind him, and as idiotic as The King of Stupid Style is, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to trip over his own two feet and fall into a pin attempt. Especially with the power of the Falcor behind him.
Simon: Or the Err Bear.
Zane: That too.
The light in Vain’s face fades, and his mouth contorts into a painful looking grimace. Normal people call it frowning.
Simon: What’s wrong, Alan?
Alan: You mentioned NBK. Which reminded me of Forewell. Which reminded me of Trav. And I miss that guy.
Zane: Isn’t he back now?
Alan pays the question no attention as he rises to his feet, and unsteadily makes his way into the living room.
Alan: I think I’s going to lay down for a minute. The room is… spinny.
With that, Alan faceplants onto the sofa in the living room. Simon sighs.
Simon: I guess that’s my queue to get Mr. Inebriated back to our hotel.
Zane dismisses him with a wave of his hand.
Zane: Trust me Simon, you don’t want him riding in a vehicle right now. There is a guest room in the back, down the hall. You're free to use it. Alan isn’t going anywhere.
Simon: Thank you, Zane.
The two men rise to their feet and shake hands. Simon turns and heads through the living area and down the hall, shaking his head as he looks over at Alan. Zane grabs the kitchen trash can and walks over and places it beside the couch.
Zane: Make sure you get it all in the trash can, Alan.
Alan mumbles something in return, but it can’t be made out due to his face being buried in the cushion. Zane chuckles, before turning and heading towards his bedroom.
The Next Morning
An obviously hungover Alan Wallace has awakened and groggily headed into the kitchen. Opening the door of the refrigerator, his eyes go wide. Before him is a refrigerator that is completely full of bottles of VEEN water. Checking the digital temperature gauge, he sees that the fridge is set to a precise forty-three degrees.
Alan: You have got to be kidding me?
Zane stands in the doorway, a smile on his face.
Zane: I guess I did have VEEN.
Alan turns and looks at him in shock.
Zane: I had a feeling that you were going to pay me a visit at some point, so I wanted to be prepared. Then Celeste got in touch with me and told me that you left her by herself in her current state to pay me said visit. So, we figured we would have a bit of fun with you.
Alan: I have no words…
Zane: Feel free to grab a couple. You look like you need it.
Zane turns and begins making his way back towards his room, then calls out over his shoulder.
Zane: Call your wife, Alan. And be sure that you have a proper apology ready to go.
The sound of a door shutting is heard, as Vain turns back towards the fridge and grabs three bottles of water.
Alan: Fuck…
FIN
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