Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 30, 2010 7:22:25 GMT -5
“Alfy is dead! He took him and killed him!”
The child was balling his eyes out, as the muscular figure embraced him tightly.
“I let him kill Alfy! I couldn’t stop him! I’m so sorry!!”
“It’s alright, Declan. You tried your best. That's what's important.”
“But my best wasn’t good enough!!”
“So you’ll just have to get better.”
“I can’t!! I’m too weak!! I only had Alfy for three days and I still let him die!!”
“But you can defend the memory of Alfy, can’t you?”
“No! I’m not strong enough!!”
“But you can try, can’t you?”
“I’ll just mess it up!! Just like I mess everything up!!”
“Alfy would have wanted you to try.”
“That’s enough, Jeremy! Come now Declan, you need to get some rest.”
* * * * *
The child was balling his eyes out, as the muscular figure embraced him tightly.
“I let him kill Alfy! I couldn’t stop him! I’m so sorry!!”
“It’s alright, Declan. You tried your best. That's what's important.”
“But my best wasn’t good enough!!”
“So you’ll just have to get better.”
“I can’t!! I’m too weak!! I only had Alfy for three days and I still let him die!!”
“But you can defend the memory of Alfy, can’t you?”
“No! I’m not strong enough!!”
“But you can try, can’t you?”
“I’ll just mess it up!! Just like I mess everything up!!”
“Alfy would have wanted you to try.”
“That’s enough, Jeremy! Come now Declan, you need to get some rest.”
* * * * *
Well hey there. My name’s Owen Peterson. If you’re a GIW addict like I am, you might know a thing or two about me. But if you don’t, let me give you the basics. I’m a referee for Global Impact Wrestling. I’ve got a reputation for being the strictest of the company’s referees and not too many people in the joint are all that fond of me. I’m getting on in years, but my age has never kept me down, not even for a second. I live with the love of my life, who I share five children and four grandchildren with. Nothing too flash, but we’ve always managed to get by and we’ve always been happy.
Or at least we were.
This past week has been the scariest of my life. You see, this Saturday, November 29th 2008, I have a wrestling match with a man named Donovan Hastings. This match is taking place at Horizons, GIW’s most celebrated event. Normally a wrestler would kill to be apart of this show. But I’m not a wrestler. Never have been, never will be. Hastings is a wrestler. One of the best. His athleticism and technical prowess are outmatched only by the hatred he feels towards me. And all because I did my job as best I could.
Now I’m sitting here, unsure of what the future holds. I’m scared. For the first time in my life, I actually fear something. My wife is scared. My children are scared. My grandchildren are, thankfully, too young to understand what’s happening. But it’s hard to explain to them why grandad cries every time he looks at them.
And now that my destiny is upon me, I realise there’s only one thing I can do. Settle my affairs, put my demons to rest, enjoy my last moments and worry about the future when it arrives. But apart of saying goodbye is leaving a legacy behind. So you, my audience, I hope can stay with me and share in my experiences, my thoughts and my feelings.
While I tell you about the worst week of my life.
* * * * *
9:33 PM Saturday, 22nd November 2008 - Los Angeles, California[/b]
We were sitting inside Sting - an overpriced nightclub about 3 minutes down the road from the GIW arena. The joint hosted all the Sentinel after parties and GIW officials had booked the whole place for next week. The Horizons after party was sure to be something to remember. Not that I’d be around for it.
We all sat around the table, discussing what had been perhaps the most interesting show our company had ever produced. Nicholas Vinegar sat to my right, Glenn Burke to my left. Beside the old referee was Hazel East and Mitchell Dennis. Daniel Hanson sat to Nicholas’ other side, completing our group.
Hanson: I’m tellin’ you guys, Severino is taking that Boss P on a pole match. He’s been unstoppable lately!
East: Because he pinned a corpse?
Hanson: Come on Hazel, we all know beating Killswitch’s corpse takes more skill than beating him alive. Less chance of quitting mid-match, after kicking himself in the face.
The whole group, apart from yours truly, burst out into laughter. When he didn’t have a camera in his face and a mic in his mouth, Daniel was actually an okay, fun loving guy. Something that caught just about everyone that spoke to him for the first time, totally off guard. But I just wasn’t in the mood for laughing on that night.
Vinegar: Everything okay, Owen?
They all turned their attention to me and the awkward silence was so intense, you could almost touch it.
“Yeah… I’m fine…”
I couldn’t hide the defeated fear in my voice even for an instant. Nicholas clasped his hand to my shoulder and smiled reassuringly.
Vinegar: It’s gonna be fine. Hastings is all talk. He’s more comedian, than wrestler. You’re gonna be okay, I know you are.
“Easy for you to say.”
Nicholas frowned, withdrew his hand and only stared at his beer glass.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’ll go get the next round.”
Hurrying away from my seat, I couldn’t help, but feel shamed. Because of that cape wielding jockstrap, I was lashing out at my friends. Though truth be told, this time last month, I wouldn’t have even considered spending my free time with them, let alone calling them friends. But there are moments in all our lives that change us. If you’ve never experienced one of them, you will. And knowing the end may be upon you alters your perception of things. Daniel, Nicholas, Mitchell, Hazel and Glenn… they were all incredible people. To think I could have been with them all this time.
So then and there, I made a vow to myself. That tonight belonged to us, not Donovan Hastings and not the beaked bastard that booked the match. And I wasn’t going to let those two fucks ruin what could be my last night out with my friends. If I did that, Boss P had already won.
I approached the bar and ordered our drinks. I won’t go into details, because it’d put you to sleep faster than a headlock from Hastings. But what I noticed next was not only quite interesting, but also very surprising.
Will Smith was at the door. The multimillion dollar movie star himself wanted to enter Sting. But what was really shocking was that he couldn’t. The two bouncers at the entrance wouldn’t let him in! But that was nothing compared to what was about to come...
Smith: You fools kidding me?! I’m Will Smith! I’m da Fresh Prince! If you two homeboys don’t let me pass, you gon’ find yoselves out of a job!
Bouncer 1: Ha. We’ve been given strict orders to not allow any known associates of The Revolution inside the building. And the guy we take orders from would blow you apart… literally!
Smith: What?! It’s tha damn penguin, ain’t it?! He’s the one doing this! DAMN! First my tag team partner abandons me and now a couple of sammich faces won’t even let me into their crappy club!
Bouncer 2: What’d you just call us?
Smith: I called yo bitch ass a SAMMICH FACE! Whatchu gon’ do about it, kid?!
Bouncer 2 (and he said this, while cracking his knuckles, I might add): Why tell? When we can show you?!
Will Smith only chuckled, as the two men - each of which were at least twice his size - advanced on him. Even for Boss P, beating on a celebrity was pretty far out there. I had no idea how this was going to end. And nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.
Smith: You fools got no idea what you’re in for. You see what I did to Brown and Cage at Sentinel? I showed the world why Declan Prescott wanted me as the guest enforcer of his match. I proved that I ain’t gon’ take crap from anyone! Even when outnumbered, I always find a way to win the battle. Whether it’s a steel chair, a bad ass freestyle or whatever else I need, I’m Will Smith! No one funks wid me!
Bouncer 1: Oh, we’re gonna ‘funk’ you up real bad, buddy!
Smith: If a two time Global Champ and a treasure huntin’ whack job with Superman sperm can’t put da Fresh Prince down, what do you two punks think you’re gonna accomplish? If it’s my foot up yo ass, then you spot on!
Bouncer 2: Shut up! I’ve had enough of this guy!
The two bouncers swung a fist each with fury I’ve never seen outside a wrestling ring. Will Smith only grinned and stuck his arm up. Both the bouncers' fists went colliding into it and erupted with a loud cracking and clanging sound on impact. They both fell to the ground, screaming in agony and cradling their hands.
Bouncer 1: WHAT THE FUCK?!?! MY HAND IS BROKEN!!!
Bouncer 2: MINE TOO!!! THE HELL DID YOU DO TO US?!?!?!
Smith: Didn’t you two headphone jockeys see I, Robot?
Bouncer 2: What’d you call us?!
Smith: HEADPHONE JOCKEYS, FOOL! And that’s exactly what yo punk asses are! Now if you had seen I, Robot, like any action, sci-fi or Will Smith fan should, you’d know about my robot arm!
Bouncer 1: WHAT?! YOU MEAN THAT THING’S REAL?!
Smith: Of course it is, crab book!
Bouncer 1: What?
Smith: CRAB BOOK, YOU ASSHOLE! DIDN’T YO MOMMA TEACH YOU ANYTHING?!
Bouncer 2: How the hell can that arm be real?! What are you?!
Smith: Whatchu talking ‘bout? I, Robot was a documentary, you know? Everything you saw was real.
Will Smith then looked around, as my jaw hung open and drool fell freely to the ground. This was completely insane.
Smith: I think I’ve said too much. You forget what you saw here!
He then pulled a small, silver device from his shirt and flashed a light into the bouncers' eyes.
Smith: Yo weak, girly arms weren’t broke my robot arm, you got that?! There’s no conspiracy. Your microwave won’t try to kill you in your sleep. You’re perfectly safe. In fact, Will Smith wasn’t even here. You two assholes busted yo hands while getting a little too excited watching Mikey B. Badd’s latest match. Got that, lamb fillet?
Bouncer 1: What’d you ju -
Smith: LAMB FILLET, FOOL! AND DON’T YO FORGET IT! Now I gotta go see my homeys, The Revolution. Gotta make sure Prescott’s aighte, after his disappearing act - he wouldn’t diss the Fresh Prince without good reason. Then we gotta work out a way to screw Brown over in da Horizons match. Wait, I shouldn’t ‘a said dat last bit…
The bouncers looked at him in awe, just like me. He then cursed to himself, removed the device once more and again flashed the pair.
Smith: No one’s gonna screw Brandon Brown, not even a hooker, ya got dat? And… and… ah, fuck it. Make up yo own damn back stories, ya keyboard dopplers.
Bouncer 2: -
Smith: KEYBOARD DOPPLER, DAMMIT! Now I gotta go get jiggy wid it. Later y’all.
And like that, he ripped his pants off, revealing a set of yellow tights, and dashed from the scene. I wasn’t sure if what I had just seen was real or there were simply too many beers in my gut. I’ll let you decide.
Burke: Owen.
I turned my attention to the elderly man before me. The look on his face was one of concern.
Burke: What are you doing over here, Owen? The drinks arrived at the table ages ago.
“Hey,” I replied. “I just… oh, nothing. Let’s go have some fun!”
We exchanged a smile each, before heading back to the table. I sat down, in the middle of Daniel’s explanation of why a having a ‘duct tape Alex Kiseragi to train tracks’ match would be in GIW’s best interest.
It was a strange night. They always were at GIW. But I was gonna make sure I enjoyed every single one of them I had left. Because that would be something no one could ever take away.
* * * * *
9:47 AM Monday, 24th November 2008 - Los Angeles, California[/b]
“Where are you going, Owen?”
She had caught me just as I placed my handle on the front door knob. Though disapproval in her voice, she sounded as heavenly as ever.
“There’s just something I have to do,” I answered.
“And what about your family? Your children? Your grandchildren? Me?”
“I’ll be back in time for lunch,” I told her. “Then we’ll have that family picnic, just like I promised. But before that, I have to go see some people.”
“In a suit and holding flowers?” she snapped.
“I’m not having an affair, if that’s what you think,” I replied. “It was hard enough finding one woman that would put up with me.”
Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help, but let out a quick smile. But pleasantries wouldn’t be enough to change her stubborn mind.
“It’s just…” I began, trying my best not to choke on my words. “You know when you have someone looking out for you? But you never really appreciate it, until it’s too late? Well there’s been a lot of people like that in my life. And no matter what happens to me on Saturday, I’ve been given a rare opportunity. A rare gift, even. Because I’ve been given the time to make things right, before I go. And I’m not gonna waste that. So I just have to go and speak to someone. You understand?”
Tears were welling in her eyes - as well as mine - and she smiled at me again. But this smile was true and genuine. A smile of love. Of dedication. Of fear. She slowly nodded her head, before planting her soft, divine lips on mine.
“I understand perfectly. You do what you gotta do. We’ll all be here waiting for you, when you get back.”
“Thankyou dear. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
* * * * *
11:08 AM Monday, 24th November 2008 - Los Angeles, California[/b]
Walking down the corridor, one thing shocked me more than anything else. How sterile it was. Apart from the occasional poster about breast cancer or lumps on your janglies, there was nothing. Just white wall, after grey door, after white wall, after grey door. In a place so empty, how were people expected to get better? There was no energy to feed off. No… life force.
Then it hit me. I shouldn’t be thinking about such things. Chances were, after Hastings had his way with me on Saturday, I’d have a bed reserved for me in this place.
I shook any of those thoughts from my mind. That wasn’t what this visit was about. It was about doing what I had to. It was about tying up loose ends. Finishing some business that had yet to be finished.
It was terrifying.
I finally arrived at the room I wanted. I hadn’t seen a single other soul on the entire floor. That was probably Declan Prescott’s doing. It seemed his reach knew no limits. Well, almost no limits. The one thing I needed him to do was the one thing he seemingly couldn’t.
Take his fucking company back!
Again brushing the negative thoughts aside, I peered though the curtains. Cara Prescott laid in her hospital bed, her tiny frame seemingly having grown even thinner during her time in the hospital. Though with hospital food, that was understandable. Maybe I’d lose a few pounds too. The Mrs. would appreciate that. Every cloud, huh? But getting back to the point, Cara was awake. Her eyes seemed glazed and dull and her head was still bandaged heavily, but she was awake all the same. Now things really were looking up.
Sitting by her side, smiling compassionately and speaking gently, his hands entwined with hers, was my boss. My true boss. Declan Prescott. A man, as much as I hated to say it, I always took for granted until he was gone. Behind him Travis Roberts was seated on a couch, reading the latest issue of GIW magazine and shaking his head disapprovingly, while Brandon McSkinny was polishing The Blessed One’s sleek, black, leather shoes. The way the kid rubbed those things with such enthusiasm was astounding. He truly did appreciate every moment of his life.
To think how much I could have learned from these people.
Then I noticed something. I could actually hear the pair speaking. A gentle warmth in Mr. Prescott’s voice that I had never encountered before. And the ever burning hope that filled Mrs. Prescott’s words even gave me some.
“It’s done, Cara,” he stated. “He won’t ever becoming back again… I promise.”
“Thankyou… my love,” she wheezed, before weakly placing her arms around his sides. “I know… I know that can’t have been easy for you…”
“I just had to put it in perspective,” Mr. Prescott replied, gently rubbing his hands along her back. “And that took me longer than it should have. But I realised that compared to losing you, it was the easiest thing in the world.”
“Oh Declan…” she moaned with ecstasy.
At this point, Mr. Roberts rose to his feet and entered the room’s private restroom. Whether he felt he was invading on a private moment or their affection just plain creeped him out remained unclear. The pair didn’t seem to notice, though.
“The doctor said… I can leave the hospital… on Thursday,” Mrs. Prescott said, still clinging to her husband.
“I know,” he replied. “It’ll be really great to finally take you home again.”
“And to the… pay-per-view…”
“Absolutely not,” Mr. Prescott countered, his voice now as firm as I had ever heard. “I’m not letting you go out there with both Browns and Nicolas Cage! Those three guys have to be some of the most unstable on the planet. And who knows what other curve balls Boss P will throw come match time? It’s way too dangerous, Cara, and I’m putting my foot down on this one. There’s no way you’re going anywhere near the GIW arena until you’ve completely recovered.”
It was as if he were another person. Someone capable of feeling love and empathy. No, not a different person. Just a person that never showed their true face. For at the end of the day, Declan Prescott was - and always had been - a wonderful human being.
“Don’t… be an idiot…” she wheezed in response. “We’re a… team. That’s what… you said… at our wedding. That… no matter what… we were going to… to stick together… and I know… how important this match is… to you. Your chance to… reclaim your… your pride. The pride… Brandon Brown stole… from you. And I’m going to do… everything I can to make sure that… you get it back. That you win… and you can’t say no… because I’ve already made up… my mind…”
The determination in her voice could not be matched. So much so that it seemed to take what little strength she had left. She kissed him weakly on the lips and then closed her eyes, fading back into her well deserved rest. Declan smiled and then rested his head beside hers. I couldn’t help but wonder if they experienced shared dreams.
Dammit! I had been too distracted by their rare display of emotion, that I had lost my one and possibly final chance I had to speak with Mrs. Prescott. No matter. Couldn’t be changed now. I just had to trust that Mr. Prescott would give her my regards after… well, after whatever was going to happen to me at Horizons happened.
I checked that my tie was straight in the window’s reflection, checked that the flowers I had bought were all still there and then stepped towards the door. Before I could knock upon the wooden frame, it flew open and the larger than life Travis Roberts himself emerged from the threshold. He didn’t seem to notice the obstacle I presented at first and actually bumped right into me. Then he gazed at me and raised his eyebrows suspiciously.
“Will Smith?” he inquired. “What are you doing here? The Blessed One thought you were coming around this evening. Seeing as there are less of those parasitic journalists around after the sun sets.”
“Urg…” I fumbled, having been caught completely off guard. “I’m - not Will Smith. My name is - is Owen P - P - Peterson. I’m a refe - eree for GI - GIW.”
The 6’6 superstar squinted his eyes and examined me up and down, as if doubting my story. He then grabbed the flowers and began peering down the stems.
“There a hidden camera in here?” he inquired. “Because Travis Roberts is damn sure you’re no referee. Probably just one of those media marketing leeches. The Headliner wouldn’t put such a shameful act of deception beyond you vultures. Unless you ate Hazel East, fat man.”
“I am a referee!” I protested, the shock having warn off, now only replaced by irritation. I wasn’t having what may be my last week of good health ruined by some tripped out stoner on an ego trip. “Go get Mr. Prescott and he’ll tell you as much!”
“The Significant Player asked that Travis Roberts made sure no one disturbed him, while he’s attending to his wife. Even the nurses and doctors have a hard time getting past The TWiSTeD Icon. So what makes you think you have even the slightest chance?”
“Look,” I replied, even unsure myself how this scenario was going to end. “If he doesn’t want to see anyone, fine. I respect that. Just give him and Mrs. Prescott the flowers. And my regards. I just want to thank them both for everything they’ve done for me. I’ve never been the most social guy in the company. That’s why you don’t recognise me. In fact, a lot of the people in the company openly dislike me. Think I only see this as a job. An occupation. Rather than a passion, like all of you do. And truth be told, maybe they’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always excelled at my job! I’ve always done the best I could, no matter what that insane, witch raping bastard says!
“But… but I’ve never been overly grateful to Mr. Prescott. Hell, I used to flat-out hate the guy. I used all kinds of terrible words to describe the way he did things. Because I always felt that he never respected me as a human being.”
I looked at my hand. The cigar burn still stung me during the darkest hours of the night. While the physical wound had healed, the humiliation I had suffered at the hands of that penguin would be a burden I would carry for the rest of my seemingly short life.
“But he always respected that I am a human being,” I continued. “But this Boss P… well, I just want you to tell Mr. Prescott this… that even if I’m not around to see it, he better take that flightless, feathered freak and beat the redneck out of him!!”
Travis Roberts smiled, either amused by the fire he saw in my eyes or just happy to meet a fellow Boss P hater.
“You said your name was Peterson, right?” he inquired.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“The Blessed One will make sure Declan and Cara get these flowers,” Mr. Roberts told me and I believed the sincerity in his voice. “And he’ll give them your regards. He‘s sure they‘ll appreciate them.”
“Thankyou.”
I turned and left, seeing both Prescotts still resting in each others company, as I moved past the window. The questions struck me hard. Were they two angels sent down from above? Or just my own personal saviours? And would they ever forgive my betrayal? Would they be there to pick up the pieces that Hastings and Boss P left behind? Or had I ruined my only chance?
* * * * *
Now I’m on my way home from the hospital. And while it’s easy to say I’ll live without fear, the truth is, trying to enjoy my last moments, being sure to say goodbye… it all just reinforces how terrifying this entire ordeal is. How unprepared I truly am for the end.
How many chances will I miss? Chances to see love in a man and a woman’s hearts? Chances to see wonders that the world still keeps as a mystery from me? Chances to sit down with the people I care about and simply enjoy being with them?
Well, I don’t want to think about the answer. All I know is that I’m going to see my family and I’m going to tell them how much they mean to me. Because that’s all I can do now. I’d invite you along, but family business is a private affair. So I thank you for listening and this is where my story ends. Or at least this chapter. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if we crossed paths again, before the week is through.
But I’m just one man, with just one story. There are a multitude of others within GIW alone. And you owe it to yourself to hear each and every one of them, while you can.
Goodbye.
* * * * *
6:13 PM Tuesday, 3rd November 1992 - Sydney, Australia[/b]
“That’s enough, Jeremy!” Margaret Prescott snapped. “Come now Declan, you need to get some rest.”
The boy remained in the arms of Jeremy Sprock. It was the one place in the entire world that he felt safe. He believed with all his heart that Jeremy would never hurt him. Never do a single thing to make Declan unhappy. He was a wise mentor, but also a sturdy defender. That's what he believed.
“Declan!” Margaret commanded. “Now!”
“Do what your mother says, Declan,” Jeremy instructed, trying to hide the contempt in his voice aimed at the boy’s mother. “Go along now.”
“But I…” Declan squeaked, unsure of the words to use.
“It’s okay, Declan,” the warrior reassured.
Declan bit down on his thumb and reluctantly nodded, before making his way toward his mother. She took him by the hand and the pair began to make their way up the mansion staircase, before Jeremy cleared his throat and spoke.
“Margaret, before you go,” he said stiffly. “We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she replied curtly.
“Well the least you can do is listen.”
She groaned unhappily, then knelt down in front of her son.
“Get Lucy to put a bath on for you, okay? I’ll be in really soon and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
“Yes mummy.”
She kissed him softly on the forehead, before ushering him up the stairs. Declan climbed the large flight, while Margaret irritably returned to the base.
“What do you want, Jeremy?” she hissed.
“I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing!” he barked back, clearly at the end of his fuse.
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me, Margaret. Why are you sheltering him like this?!”
“He’s six years old!” she protested, her face growing red with anger. “Of course I’m going to shelter him! I’m his mother!”
“Yeah,” Jeremy spat. “But you can’t be there every second. And those bigger kids like Travis Draco know that. Or perhaps you were unaware that your son is used as a human punching bag on a daily basis!”
“What do you want me to do, Jeremy?!” she roared, the veins in her head throbbing so greatly, they seemed about to burst. “Fill him with same hate and rage that consumes you?! The same anger that controlled Andrew? Because look how that turned out - ”
“Don’t you dare compare me to that monster!” Jeremy growled menacingly. “I’m nothing like him. I’d never hurt you or Declan and you know that! But you just don’t care! You want those kids to pick on him! You want every second of his life away from you to be a living hell! You want him to be abused and tormented, so that he always comes back to you! You want to train him as your obedient servant so he doesn’t ever turn on you, like your husband did!”
SMACK!
Tears pouring from her eyes, she smashed her palm into his cheek with all her strength. He put his hand to the already swelling red skin and smirked at her aggression. He had always known it was there, but it had apparently taken Andrew Prescott completely by surprise.
“YOU DON’T KNOW THE FIRST FUCKING THING ABOUT ME!” she sobbed.
“So you’re saying I’m wrong?” he inquired with a whisper.
She didn’t say anything at first. She only trembled with rage and hurt. Then she leaned toward Jeremy, her eyes bloodshot and hateful.
“You go to hell!” she hissed with venom.
“Maybe I will,” Jeremy replied. “But let me tell you something. I’m not gonna let that boy grow up to be a doormat. He’ll serve no one, but himself. I'll teach him how to defend himself. I'll teach him to turn the tables on his oppressors. And if you try to stop me, I’ll fight you.
“And I’ll win.”
* * * * *
[/color]6:24 AM Sunday, 23rd November 2008 - Miami, Florida[/b]
It was disgusting. Completely vile. Proof that this rotting world was completely void of decency, respect or any other trait worth fighting for. How could this have happened? The perpetrator was a monster. A twisted demon void of anything resembling a heart. Or a soul.
Selena Maguire’s gravestone. The final resting place of the fallen angel that was taken from this pool of filth far too early. Something had smeared the grey headstone with a thick, revolting, seemingly rotting dark brown substance. One word was written. ‘Rebirth’.
He wouldn’t accept this. This was beyond injustice. This was evil. The creature responsible for this hideous atrocity would die screaming for mercy. Begging for forgiveness that would never come. When he found the culprit, he’d spend hours upon hours tormenting and -
“Maguire.”
The voice emanated from behind him. He turned on the spot, his blood already beginning to boil and simmer from his body. He knew the voice. And knew it belonged to the one responsible for tainting the only remaining memory he had of his sweet, wonderful, angelic sister.
And now his gaze fell on the beast. Declan Prescott. That wretched thing had a pistol aimed squarely on the valiant defender of good. But Maguire knew that he wouldn’t fall at the hands of Prescott’s weapon. Oh no. On this day, justice would finally be served.
* * * * *
6:27 AM Sunday, 23rd November 2008 - Miami, Florida[/b]
The gun was rock steady in his grip. Aimed squarely on the fuming Maguire. It had finally come. This one moment he had spent the last six months of his life preparing for. Ever since he had returned to GIW after the ruthless, relentless beating he had suffered from Brandon Brown. The one moment he had been desperately waiting for ever since he had first encountered his enemy. And absolutely nothing would stop him. On this day, he would finally have revenge.
“You’re gonna shoot me, Prescott?” the monster sneered.
“That was the idea,” Declan spat. “After what you did to Cara, I realised that I can’t let you live.”
“What I did?! What about what she did?! She took a life! She refused to take responsibility for her actions! She was - ”
“DEFENDING HERSELF!” Declan roared, his finger almost slipping down on the trigger. “But none of that matters anymore… I don’t have to justify myself to a dog like you. You’re already dead, you‘re just too stupid to realise.”
“You're judging me?!” Maguire snapped. “You violated the grave of my Selena! Of the most beautiful, innocent, compassionate person to ever grace this shit hole of a world!”
“I did,” Declan grinned, sending Maguire's skin a deathly red. “You see I did a bit of research on you, Maguire. I found out that you’ve visited this gravesite every week since you were a child. That your lust for death began when she ended. That you lost control when you lost the one thing you loved more than anything else. That you’ve been killing ever since. That all you are is a lying, hypocritical waste of what could have been a perfectly good life.”
“No!” Maguire snapped, falling to his knees. “There’s no way you could know!”
“You’d be surprised at what I know.”
“I’m not a killer! I’m an enforcer! I make people realise the error of their ways! I promote justice and peace! YOU DON’T KNOW THE FIRST FUCKING THING ABOUT ME!!!”
“This was never about the world. It was about filling the emptiness your sister’s death left in you,” Declan began. “It was a personal vendetta and never anything more. We both know that. But I must say Maguire, I don’t blame you. I love Cara… more than I thought was humanly possible. And if anything ever happened to her… well I don’t know what I’d do. And I’m not going to ever find out. I won’t allow it.”
“So what then?” Maguire now grinned, rising to his feet. “You’re gonna shoot me? You’re gonna put me down like a dog? Can you do it, Prescott? Can you kill with me one of those bullets?”
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Declan sighed and dropped the gun, letting it tumble uselessly to his feet.
“No… I can’t. Even if you are a beast, I’m not an executioner. And I can’t put you down… not even for her…”
“HA!” Maguire spat. “You fool! You had your chance!”
Maguire charged him, ripping a small, sharp and completely deadly blade from his jacket. He advanced on The Significant Player, grinning maliciously and waving the dagger through the air.
“I said I couldn’t execute you,” Declan proclaimed, gritting his teeth. “But I can still fight you!!”
He dodged the blade with ease and smashed his elbow into Maguire’s nose. He heard the cartilage shatter, as the monster erupted with an agonising cry. Within moments it was done. Declan launched one foot behind his wretched enemy’s legs and swung his right arm with tremendous fury. In one swift blow, Maguire was gone. In one impact that was so lethal, it had the potency to finally close the book on this cursed chapter, the battle was over. The Significant Impact. The same move Brandon Brown would be annihilated by come Horizons. The one move that had, and would forever, set Declan Prescott free. To give him a life beyond the stars. To fly in bliss, hand-in-hand with the ones he loved.
It was with an almighty, triumphant and merciless roar, that Declan planted Maguire spine first into Selena’s tombstone with his perfected finishing manoeuvre. And Maguire had most certainly been finished. His spine had snapped across the stone and he now lay on it, his feet planted on the ground on one side, his back hanging limply on the other. He had been folded up like a couch that was no longer wanted. Now he was just a piece of trash.
Declan knelt before the fallen beast, so their faces were level. Blood was dripping from Maguire’s mouth and building up in what remained of his nose. But the demented creature was still - barely - alive. His breaths were short and hollow and it was clear that as every second passed, he moved closer and closer to the darkness that awaited him.
“The fluids will be building up in your spine,” Declan stated, his voice entirely hollow and void of any emotion - even hate. “It’ll get harder and harder to breathe. But after I kick you off that headstone, the nerve endings from your back to your brain will be entirely severed and you’ll die instantly. But I can’t do that just yet.
Maguire struggled to speak, but only spluttered up blood. Declan smiled reassuringly at him.
“You see, before you go, I want to tell you something. I want to tell you why Cara killed that man. It may be hard for you to believe, but my wife isn’t capable of harming another soul. Not even you, Maguire. She’d die before so much as raising an eyebrow at another person. At any other creature. She’s not like us. Her spirit is pure in every way. Completely untainted, despite all the suffering and torment she’s been subjected to. Cara is… perfect.
“But the demon that lives inside her is very different.”
Maguire’s eyes bulged at the comment. And now blood was even seeping from them. His ears were also pooling with precious red liquid.
“I know this, because I’ve seen it. Cara doesn’t know that I’ve met this monster, however. You see, your theory was that the night she killed that predator while defending herself, she took the security tapes, destroyed them and then returned to me afterwards. But you were wrong.
“She came to me with the tapes. Except it wasn’t Cara that came. She looked like Cara, she spoke like Cara, but she was something else. I could tell by her eyes. They burned with a fire. The same fire that burns in your eyes. The same fire that once burned in Damien Noose’s eyes. And yes, the same fire that burns in my eyes.
“Whoever this woman was, she asked me for my help. And so we destroyed the tapes together. Then we returned home and embraced each other. But it was Cara who woke up in the morning. And she had no memory of how she had come from the GIW HQ to be in our home. And I never told her. Because I’m afraid if I do, the monster that dwells within her will be stirred out of complacency. That it will consume her. That the woman I love will be replaced by something evil… by something that reminds me of myself.
“So understand this, Maguire. I will keep her secret for the rest of time. I’ll take it to the grave. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her. And to keep her safe. And to make sure her soul is never tainted. To make sure that she remains innocent and good for the rest of her days.
“And to do that, I’ve had to be reborn. Just as you were the day your sister died. I have risen from the ashes as a monster. As something willing and capable of doing whatever is required to have its way. To make its will, reality.
“Before I was a bad person. But now I’m less than human. Now I’m just a thing with no constraints holding me back. And you have made me that way, Maguire. Not only has your mission to rid the world of those you hate failed, in the process you’ve created the one thing you hate the most - yet another evil being to populate our planet. And I’ll continue destroying lives for as long as I have to.”
The blood was now swelling out of his eyes and gushing down his head, as helpless, crimson tears. He was panting frantically, struggling for air and to overcome the complete helplessness that was raping his final moments on the earth.
“Wh… wa… ne… ?…” he gasped pathetically.
“What now?” Declan responded, grinning sadistically. “Now I go to Horizons and reclaim my life that was taken away so many months ago. Now I claim my revenge and move on with my life.
"And you rot in hell with your sister.”
Maguire screamed with hatred and terror, but only a gurgling spit emerged, as he drowned in his own juices. Declan rose to his feet, took one, joyous breath in and hammered his boot into Maguire’s skull. With The Perfect Play, the move that would knock Brandon Brown into helplessness in a mere moment, his fallen nemesis’ body collapsed to the ground. The corpse was completely still now. The chapter closed. Well, almost. Declan had to return to Los Angeles. He needed to reclaim what was rightfully his.
His pride. His dream. His freedom.