Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 30, 2010 7:11:59 GMT -5
He tossed the gym bag forcefully into the car trunk. Turning his attention to the two people standing to his left, his eyes said more than words ever could. But that didn’t stop him from speaking.
“We’ve had this discussion. You’re staying here, Cara.”
“No!” she protested, pouting her fists on her thighs. “I wanna come!”
“I already told you,” Declan responded. “That you and Travis have to stay here and keep an eye on the Boss P situation. Last thing we need is for that little fucker to - ”
“While you what?! Go off to be killed?! I don’t care about GIW if you’re not even going to be around to comer back to it!”
“I’m not going to die,” Declan said pausing for several, ominous moments. He then withdrew a sleek, black pistol from his jacket pocket, igniting a gasp in Cara and even The Blessed One himself. “He is.”
“Don’t…” was all she could muster as a response.
“The Significant Player will be vulnerable,” Travis Roberts interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. “Going off to some cabin in the middle of a deserted forest that doesn’t even have cell phone reception in an attempt to lure Maguire out? While The Blessed One doesn’t doubt Declan Prescott’s fortitude or intelligence, on the off chance something goes wrong, there’ll be no one to - ”
“I know that,” Declan responded, concealing the pistol in his jacket once more. “And that’s why it’s so important I go alone. I’m not risking anything happening to you, Ca - ”
SMACK!
His words were cut short by a hot, stinging feeling on his cheek that had become far too familiar over the past several weeks. Cara’s eyes were swelling with water, as her hand trembled beyond her control.
“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you,” she mumbled, though her words grew louder with each spoken. “But if something happened to you that I might have been able to stop, I’d kill myself! So I’m coming with you no matter what! And if you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, so you don’t have a choice!”
Her voice was booming now, as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She thrust herself toward him and buried her head in his chest. Declan turned to Roberts, who simply shrugged.
“The cop is after Mrs. Prescott just as much as he is Declan Prescott,” The Headliner said. “So there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t come after her while The Significant Player is off playing survivalist hippy, anyway. You might as well be together…”
“Well then,” Declan replied, with a grin of both defeat and acceptance. “I guess it’s settled. We’ll go together, Cara.”
“I’ll go pack,” she said, slipping her hands into his jean pockets. She withdrew, clutching both his wallet and car keys. “I meant what I said. If you leave without me, I’ll follow you…”
She then turned and dashed to the parking lot exit, back into the main section of the apartment building, still holding her acquired items. Once she was through the door and out of sight, The Revolution turned to face each other.
“The Significant Player is just going to let her run off alone?” Roberts inquired, with a raised eyebrow.
“Security in this place is tight,” Declan responded, leaning against the trunk of the car. “I’m trying to lean how to… trust people.”
“Well The Heart And Soul Of GIW can trust Travis Roberts to take care of GIW’s best interests in his absence. That foul mouthed penguin has to be taken down a peg…”
“One problem at a time, Travis.”
“That’s a fair point,” he replied. “But does Declan Prescott really think Maguire will take the bait?”
“I made sure it was ‘leaked’ to the public that I was going to a remote location to train for my match against Brandon Brown at Horizons. So as far as anyone is concerned, the only thing my mind is focused on right now is GIW. If Maguire is half the beast I give him credit for, he‘ll show.”
“Well if there’s anything else The Headliner can do to help…”
“I know,” Declan replied. “I’ll let you know.”
Declan decided that if hell existed, it was the car trip he had just spent getting to the cabin. Cara had barely spoken two words the entire time. She just sat in the passenger’s seat, rigid and cold, her hands buried nervously between her thighs. He hadn’t seen her like that since the days she was still controlled by Damien Noose. As if her soul had left this world, forgetting to take her body with it.
And that ominous black car with the tinted windows that had caught his eye one too many times to be coincidence on the drive over wasn’t helping matters. They had most certainly been followed. It seemed everything was coming to a head.
Now that they were in the cabin, things were no better. She was seated on the couch, her arms crossed stiffly, and the only movement of her body was the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Declan decided to approach, kneeling down before her and resting his head in her lap. She let out a small squeak of surprise, but then went back to staring at the fireplace.
“Don’t wanna talk, huh?”
“I’m scared Declan,” she said, looking down at him, a single tear rolling down her right cheek. “And I know you didn’t want me to come and I’m sorry, but - ”
“No Cara,” he said, now raising his body and placing his hand gently to her cheek. “The truth is, I’m terrified. And whatever comes, no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. And we’ll do whatever we can to keep each other safe.”
“Do you think he’s going to come?” she asked, with a sniffle.
Declan hesitated for a moment. The only way she could be prepared was with the truth, even if it wasn’t what she would have liked to hear.
“Yes, I do.”
BANG!
The loud banging of the thunder had caught them off guard at first. But now that the sun had set and the storm was firmly entrenched, they had grown accustomed to it. Or Declan had at least. Cara was planted cross legged on the floor, before the fire place. Though she was still as icy as ever.
He wanted to speak. To ask her how she felt. To reassure her that everything would be alright. But he couldn’t lie to her. And he knew if she wanted to talk, she would. She wanted whatever was going on inside her mind to stay there. And there it would reman. At least for now.
BANG!
Cara jumped in fright and sent a timid glance Declan’s way. The Significant Player, however, didn’t even notice. The storm was directly on top of them now. The winds howling down against the cabin walls. The rain shattering down onto the roof. And the thunder almost perfectly in sequence with it’s bright, flashing accomplice. And the lightning - that had lasted a mere moment - had revealed a shadow on the other side of the cabin front door. A shadow that moved. An unwelcome shadow.
“Cara!” he hissed. “You know what to do if I fail.”
He ripped the pistol from his jacket once more and aimed it squarely on the front door. Cara only stared with terror at the blade Declan had left on then floor before her, dread overpowering her at the mere thought of picking it up and wielding it.
The gun trembled slightly in his grasp. He could pull the trigger right now. Shoot a bullet right through the wooden door. But that was no use. He’d have to open it to see if had succeeded in felling his enemy. And if he hadn’t, Maguire would have all the opportunity he needed to strike. No. There was only one thing to do.
With one hand he slipped his grasp silently onto the door handle. With the pistol still aimed at the frame, he pulled the lumbering oak opened and pulled the trig - no. Declan stopped. His finger frozen beyond his control. How could he do this? To take a life? To commit the one, single act he vowed he never would.
“DECLAN!” Cara screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the knife without hesitation and charging toward her husband.
But she was too late. The enemy on the other side of the door had all the time he needed to make his assault. To destroy the target of all his rage and hatred.
Yet nothing of the sort came.
Brandon Brown: Woah! Declan! I know we have our issues, but this is going too far! You don’t have to kill us!
Us? Declan now noticed the second, fatter, darker and noticeably more revolting of the cousins standing next to Brandon. Both were dressed in thick, army gear coloured rain coats.
Big B Brown: You got any cheese burgers?
“What the FUCK are you two doing here?!” Cara demanded, the blade still twitching in her the clutch of her fingers.
Brandon: This storm is about to blow us away. We had to get to shelter and this is the only place around for miles.
“What makes you think we care?!” Cara spat with venom.
Brandon: We’ll die if you send us out there! Especially with B slowing us down. His fat ass made the car break down as we arrived. We’re stuck here!
“Why are you here, anyway?” she inquired with a hiss.
Brandon: We heard about your super special secret training trip to beat me at Horizons. We had to follow you to find out your plan. It’s what we do.
Declan couldn’t help but chuckle. The car that had been following them all that time was being driven by these two jokers. He placed the pistol back in his jacket and ushered the two inside. The pair hesitantly entered the cabin, Cara staring daggers into both of them with every step.
“What’d you do that for?!” she hissed, as The Browns headed to the fire.
“It just seemed like the… human thing to do.” Woodward’s words still rang loudly in his head.
He had been such a fool. Compared to the awkwardness of this situation, the car trip seemed like a wonderful memory of a distant paradise. The Browns sat on one side of the rug in front of the fire place, the Prescotts on the other. Big B was gnawing on a packet of Cheetos - the Cheetos long gone, only the packet remaining. Cara was resting her eyes, her head in Declan’s lap. While Brandon and The Significant Player traded a stare icier than the cold winds of the arctic.
Big B: So… I guess the storm kind of messed up your plan to train, huh?
Brandon: You fat moron. There was never any plan to train, was there Declan?
“You’re quite perceptive,” Declan replied. “I’m both surprised and impressed. How’d you figure that one out? And don’t tell me the fat one told you in a dream.”
Brandon: You don’t bring a pistol to train for a wrestling match. You came out here for something else entirely, I know you did.
“Well, we all have our secrets.”
“You guys,” Cara interjected lazily, rolling onto her side to face The Browns. “Since we’re all here, maybe we should play a game.”
Brandon *whispering to Big B*: Play a game? She could still have that knife. What if she’s in cahoots with Nurse Larry and is going to go all Jigsaw on us?
Big B *also whispering*: Yeah, that bitch is crazy.
Brandon: Hot though…
“Like truth or dare,” Cara squeaked, grinning widely.
Big B, Brandon and Declan: …
“Fine… jerks…”
She rolled back over and buried her face in Declan’s lap. Stroking her hair with his hand, he whispered to her in the gentlest voice he could manage.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“Yeah,” she replied, looking up at him.
“You’re not worried anymore?”
“No way,” she smiled. “I saw the way you handled yourself when those guys were at the door. You were gonna shoot. You were gonna fire without hesitation. But you were in control so much that you stopped as soon as you saw it wasn’t him. Anyone else would have panicked and fired as soon as they saw something. But not you. You were totally collected. Completely ready to do whatever you had to. I know nothing bad will happen to me when I’ve got you protecting me.” She climbed up to a sitting position and nuzzled her head into his neck. “I’m completely safe with you.”
His heart may have been a shade of black, but that didn’t stop it from breaking. A tear rolled down his cheek, as he struggled to unclog the words he needed to speak from his throat. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her he had frozen. He couldn’t tell her that his inability to shoot had come from somewhere in the tainted soul he had, that was beyond his control. Her world would shatter. He was the one constant in her life. And, as much as he wanted to, he could never allow her to believe otherwise.
He was at least thankful that Brandon and Big B had gotten into an argument about who was ‘whiter’ - Big B or Michael Jackson - to notice the Prescotts’ moment of utter weakness.
CRASH!
And then it happened. Not the booming of thunder, but the shattering of glass. It had emanated from the bedroom. Perhaps a stray branch blown loose from the harsh winds. No. There was shuffling from the room. The treading of boots from stamping feet. Declan and Brandon instantly sprung into action and charged towards the room, their senses heightened, though Brandon had no idea of the danger he was charging headlong into. Big B and Cara weren’t far behind.
With a double kick to the door, it swung open. Brandon slammed a palm on the light switch, while Declan ripped the pistol from his jacket. Planting it firmly on the figure before him. But his entire being froze with dread and the weapon slipped from his hands. All the mental and physical preparation in the world couldn’t have readied him from the horror standing in the room.
Brandon: What the fuck?!
Cara and Big B raced onto the scene and both gasped with horror at the demented figure standing before them. He grinned broadly, filling all four of them with utter disgust.
“Well,” he said. “It’s time.”
“We’ve had this discussion. You’re staying here, Cara.”
“No!” she protested, pouting her fists on her thighs. “I wanna come!”
“I already told you,” Declan responded. “That you and Travis have to stay here and keep an eye on the Boss P situation. Last thing we need is for that little fucker to - ”
“While you what?! Go off to be killed?! I don’t care about GIW if you’re not even going to be around to comer back to it!”
“I’m not going to die,” Declan said pausing for several, ominous moments. He then withdrew a sleek, black pistol from his jacket pocket, igniting a gasp in Cara and even The Blessed One himself. “He is.”
“Don’t…” was all she could muster as a response.
“The Significant Player will be vulnerable,” Travis Roberts interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. “Going off to some cabin in the middle of a deserted forest that doesn’t even have cell phone reception in an attempt to lure Maguire out? While The Blessed One doesn’t doubt Declan Prescott’s fortitude or intelligence, on the off chance something goes wrong, there’ll be no one to - ”
“I know that,” Declan responded, concealing the pistol in his jacket once more. “And that’s why it’s so important I go alone. I’m not risking anything happening to you, Ca - ”
SMACK!
His words were cut short by a hot, stinging feeling on his cheek that had become far too familiar over the past several weeks. Cara’s eyes were swelling with water, as her hand trembled beyond her control.
“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you,” she mumbled, though her words grew louder with each spoken. “But if something happened to you that I might have been able to stop, I’d kill myself! So I’m coming with you no matter what! And if you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, so you don’t have a choice!”
Her voice was booming now, as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She thrust herself toward him and buried her head in his chest. Declan turned to Roberts, who simply shrugged.
“The cop is after Mrs. Prescott just as much as he is Declan Prescott,” The Headliner said. “So there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t come after her while The Significant Player is off playing survivalist hippy, anyway. You might as well be together…”
“Well then,” Declan replied, with a grin of both defeat and acceptance. “I guess it’s settled. We’ll go together, Cara.”
“I’ll go pack,” she said, slipping her hands into his jean pockets. She withdrew, clutching both his wallet and car keys. “I meant what I said. If you leave without me, I’ll follow you…”
She then turned and dashed to the parking lot exit, back into the main section of the apartment building, still holding her acquired items. Once she was through the door and out of sight, The Revolution turned to face each other.
“The Significant Player is just going to let her run off alone?” Roberts inquired, with a raised eyebrow.
“Security in this place is tight,” Declan responded, leaning against the trunk of the car. “I’m trying to lean how to… trust people.”
“Well The Heart And Soul Of GIW can trust Travis Roberts to take care of GIW’s best interests in his absence. That foul mouthed penguin has to be taken down a peg…”
“One problem at a time, Travis.”
“That’s a fair point,” he replied. “But does Declan Prescott really think Maguire will take the bait?”
“I made sure it was ‘leaked’ to the public that I was going to a remote location to train for my match against Brandon Brown at Horizons. So as far as anyone is concerned, the only thing my mind is focused on right now is GIW. If Maguire is half the beast I give him credit for, he‘ll show.”
“Well if there’s anything else The Headliner can do to help…”
“I know,” Declan replied. “I’ll let you know.”
* * * * *
Declan decided that if hell existed, it was the car trip he had just spent getting to the cabin. Cara had barely spoken two words the entire time. She just sat in the passenger’s seat, rigid and cold, her hands buried nervously between her thighs. He hadn’t seen her like that since the days she was still controlled by Damien Noose. As if her soul had left this world, forgetting to take her body with it.
And that ominous black car with the tinted windows that had caught his eye one too many times to be coincidence on the drive over wasn’t helping matters. They had most certainly been followed. It seemed everything was coming to a head.
Now that they were in the cabin, things were no better. She was seated on the couch, her arms crossed stiffly, and the only movement of her body was the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Declan decided to approach, kneeling down before her and resting his head in her lap. She let out a small squeak of surprise, but then went back to staring at the fireplace.
“Don’t wanna talk, huh?”
“I’m scared Declan,” she said, looking down at him, a single tear rolling down her right cheek. “And I know you didn’t want me to come and I’m sorry, but - ”
“No Cara,” he said, now raising his body and placing his hand gently to her cheek. “The truth is, I’m terrified. And whatever comes, no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. And we’ll do whatever we can to keep each other safe.”
“Do you think he’s going to come?” she asked, with a sniffle.
Declan hesitated for a moment. The only way she could be prepared was with the truth, even if it wasn’t what she would have liked to hear.
“Yes, I do.”
BANG!
* * * * *
The loud banging of the thunder had caught them off guard at first. But now that the sun had set and the storm was firmly entrenched, they had grown accustomed to it. Or Declan had at least. Cara was planted cross legged on the floor, before the fire place. Though she was still as icy as ever.
He wanted to speak. To ask her how she felt. To reassure her that everything would be alright. But he couldn’t lie to her. And he knew if she wanted to talk, she would. She wanted whatever was going on inside her mind to stay there. And there it would reman. At least for now.
BANG!
Cara jumped in fright and sent a timid glance Declan’s way. The Significant Player, however, didn’t even notice. The storm was directly on top of them now. The winds howling down against the cabin walls. The rain shattering down onto the roof. And the thunder almost perfectly in sequence with it’s bright, flashing accomplice. And the lightning - that had lasted a mere moment - had revealed a shadow on the other side of the cabin front door. A shadow that moved. An unwelcome shadow.
“Cara!” he hissed. “You know what to do if I fail.”
He ripped the pistol from his jacket once more and aimed it squarely on the front door. Cara only stared with terror at the blade Declan had left on then floor before her, dread overpowering her at the mere thought of picking it up and wielding it.
The gun trembled slightly in his grasp. He could pull the trigger right now. Shoot a bullet right through the wooden door. But that was no use. He’d have to open it to see if had succeeded in felling his enemy. And if he hadn’t, Maguire would have all the opportunity he needed to strike. No. There was only one thing to do.
With one hand he slipped his grasp silently onto the door handle. With the pistol still aimed at the frame, he pulled the lumbering oak opened and pulled the trig - no. Declan stopped. His finger frozen beyond his control. How could he do this? To take a life? To commit the one, single act he vowed he never would.
“DECLAN!” Cara screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the knife without hesitation and charging toward her husband.
But she was too late. The enemy on the other side of the door had all the time he needed to make his assault. To destroy the target of all his rage and hatred.
Yet nothing of the sort came.
Brandon Brown: Woah! Declan! I know we have our issues, but this is going too far! You don’t have to kill us!
Us? Declan now noticed the second, fatter, darker and noticeably more revolting of the cousins standing next to Brandon. Both were dressed in thick, army gear coloured rain coats.
Big B Brown: You got any cheese burgers?
“What the FUCK are you two doing here?!” Cara demanded, the blade still twitching in her the clutch of her fingers.
Brandon: This storm is about to blow us away. We had to get to shelter and this is the only place around for miles.
“What makes you think we care?!” Cara spat with venom.
Brandon: We’ll die if you send us out there! Especially with B slowing us down. His fat ass made the car break down as we arrived. We’re stuck here!
“Why are you here, anyway?” she inquired with a hiss.
Brandon: We heard about your super special secret training trip to beat me at Horizons. We had to follow you to find out your plan. It’s what we do.
Declan couldn’t help but chuckle. The car that had been following them all that time was being driven by these two jokers. He placed the pistol back in his jacket and ushered the two inside. The pair hesitantly entered the cabin, Cara staring daggers into both of them with every step.
“What’d you do that for?!” she hissed, as The Browns headed to the fire.
“It just seemed like the… human thing to do.” Woodward’s words still rang loudly in his head.
* * * * *
He had been such a fool. Compared to the awkwardness of this situation, the car trip seemed like a wonderful memory of a distant paradise. The Browns sat on one side of the rug in front of the fire place, the Prescotts on the other. Big B was gnawing on a packet of Cheetos - the Cheetos long gone, only the packet remaining. Cara was resting her eyes, her head in Declan’s lap. While Brandon and The Significant Player traded a stare icier than the cold winds of the arctic.
Big B: So… I guess the storm kind of messed up your plan to train, huh?
Brandon: You fat moron. There was never any plan to train, was there Declan?
“You’re quite perceptive,” Declan replied. “I’m both surprised and impressed. How’d you figure that one out? And don’t tell me the fat one told you in a dream.”
Brandon: You don’t bring a pistol to train for a wrestling match. You came out here for something else entirely, I know you did.
“Well, we all have our secrets.”
“You guys,” Cara interjected lazily, rolling onto her side to face The Browns. “Since we’re all here, maybe we should play a game.”
Brandon *whispering to Big B*: Play a game? She could still have that knife. What if she’s in cahoots with Nurse Larry and is going to go all Jigsaw on us?
Big B *also whispering*: Yeah, that bitch is crazy.
Brandon: Hot though…
“Like truth or dare,” Cara squeaked, grinning widely.
Big B, Brandon and Declan: …
“Fine… jerks…”
She rolled back over and buried her face in Declan’s lap. Stroking her hair with his hand, he whispered to her in the gentlest voice he could manage.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“Yeah,” she replied, looking up at him.
“You’re not worried anymore?”
“No way,” she smiled. “I saw the way you handled yourself when those guys were at the door. You were gonna shoot. You were gonna fire without hesitation. But you were in control so much that you stopped as soon as you saw it wasn’t him. Anyone else would have panicked and fired as soon as they saw something. But not you. You were totally collected. Completely ready to do whatever you had to. I know nothing bad will happen to me when I’ve got you protecting me.” She climbed up to a sitting position and nuzzled her head into his neck. “I’m completely safe with you.”
His heart may have been a shade of black, but that didn’t stop it from breaking. A tear rolled down his cheek, as he struggled to unclog the words he needed to speak from his throat. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her he had frozen. He couldn’t tell her that his inability to shoot had come from somewhere in the tainted soul he had, that was beyond his control. Her world would shatter. He was the one constant in her life. And, as much as he wanted to, he could never allow her to believe otherwise.
He was at least thankful that Brandon and Big B had gotten into an argument about who was ‘whiter’ - Big B or Michael Jackson - to notice the Prescotts’ moment of utter weakness.
CRASH!
And then it happened. Not the booming of thunder, but the shattering of glass. It had emanated from the bedroom. Perhaps a stray branch blown loose from the harsh winds. No. There was shuffling from the room. The treading of boots from stamping feet. Declan and Brandon instantly sprung into action and charged towards the room, their senses heightened, though Brandon had no idea of the danger he was charging headlong into. Big B and Cara weren’t far behind.
With a double kick to the door, it swung open. Brandon slammed a palm on the light switch, while Declan ripped the pistol from his jacket. Planting it firmly on the figure before him. But his entire being froze with dread and the weapon slipped from his hands. All the mental and physical preparation in the world couldn’t have readied him from the horror standing in the room.
Brandon: What the fuck?!
Cara and Big B raced onto the scene and both gasped with horror at the demented figure standing before them. He grinned broadly, filling all four of them with utter disgust.
“Well,” he said. “It’s time.”
