Post by Caleb Lockwood on Mar 26, 2018 3:57:01 GMT
Caleb rounded a corner in the Pack compound, stalking down the halls. A familiar figure noticed him, picking up his pace as he called out. "Señor Caleb!"
Caleb looked over at the source of the voice, his eyebrow going up as he recognized the man running towards him. "Juan? What is it?"
Juan, the man Caleb had rescued in Mexico, skidded up next to him, matching the taller man's pace. "I was looking for you. Someone said you seemed mad. What's going on?"
Caleb shook his head, sighing as he looked over at Juan. "It's nothing. I just need to go have a conversation with Dean. I'll be fine."
"You have a lot of those." Juan observed, tilting his head. "What do you talk about?"
"A lot of things." Caleb shrugged, continuing to walk. "Mostly the business of the Pack. Doesn't always end up being terribly productive, but they're conversations that need to be had."
Juan nodded, continuing to follow Caleb. "Dean gets...very mad sometimes. Frustrated with us, Sara especially. I don't know why. She's touched en la cabeza. Doesn't like talking about it. Very sweet, though. Very pretty."[/font]
Caleb nodded slowly, sighing. "She wasn't always this way. She was a reporter, tracking down the Pack for a podcast. Then we found her, and...I don't know. She vanished for a while. Dean said he was taking care of her. Then, he used her as bait, and...I don't know. She doesn't talk like the woman I've heard on the podcasts anymore." Caleb cracked his neck. "Something isn't right about it all."
"And you think Dean doesn't tell you the whole story?" Juan offered. Caleb nodded silently, and Juan tapped his chin, inhaling through his nose. "Why not?"
Caleb shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. One way or another, I'm going to find out. More importantly right now, I'm going to take care of Sara. If he insists on treating her like a piece of castoff garbage, then he's forgetting his place."
Juan nodded again, looking over at Caleb. "You notice how he gets different, right?"
Caleb grimaced. "I wish I didn't. I want to believe it's just his condition, but...I can't risk that starting to spill over. You all are family, just the same as myself or Brooklyn or Maxine. Just because you don't fight for the Pack doesn't mean you're not Pack. We don't neglect you. We can't."
He paused in his tracks, looking over to Juan. "Tell you what. Can you run to the kitchens for me? Go grab a plate of whatever's being served and bring it back to Sara's room. She needs to eat. I'm going to go take care of something."
Juan nodded, tilting his head in curiosity. "What are you taking care of?"
Caleb paused, shaking his head. "I'm making sure he's busy. I don't want anyone bothering her, Juan. Just make sure Sara's okay. Can you do that for me?" Juan nodded, turning and walking down another hallway. Caleb took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as he watched Juan walk away. After a few moments, he picked back up his pace, heading down the hall and disappearing out of sight.
We open on Caleb in an alleyway, leaning against a Dumpster beneath a guttering light in the dark of the night. For once, he seems at home in his environment, almost blending in with a practiced ease born of many years. He huddles his knees to his chest, rocking slightly where he sits, and smiles softly. "It's always nice to come home. Not home home, but...home. The place I counted on for so long. The streets will always have you, whether you let them or not. They're like a mother, you see, a mother who never wants her children to leave. So she finds ways of keeping you there, insisting you can't make it on your own...I found my way, but every once in a while, it helps to remind myself where I come from."
He looks up, head thumping gently against the wall of the Dumpster as he speaks, feet tapping against the gravel. "Nighthawk, you asked to be put into this match early. Number one, as it happens. Why? Because you think that the farther you go, the more people will respect you? Nobody will respect you, Tristan, because they don't believe you're worthy of respect. I happen to know they're wrong. I happen to know that the only reason some of these men stand a chance is that you're starting things out with Spike Kane. At 100%, one-on-one, you'd tear them apart. So they hide behind bluster and venom, praying they won't be the focus of your wrath."
Caleb chuckles, a rueful smile on his face. "I hope I get the chance to wrestle with you again, Tristan. I do. Every time we touch, it makes me feel alive again in a way that nobody else really does. You remind me of earlier years, simpler years, when a company sought me out and gave me the chance to feel wanted. You were the man that taught me my self-worth on this grand stage, Tristan, and I owe you for that kindness." He looks down again, smile fading. "But you stand between my family and success, and as much as I love you like a brother I can't let you stop them. We're going to fight, Tristan. It's going to be ugly, and I'm not going to enjoy it, but I know it'll happen. Just know...I never hated you. I never will."
Caleb boosts himself to a standing position, cracking his neck. "One man I'm growing to hate, though, is Devlin Raine. I tolerate you for Dean's sake, Devlin, but I think you're just as big a hypocrite as any of them. If you really cared about what was right, would you threaten to walk away if you didn't get a title shot? I don't think so. You fight the good fight until it's done, Dev, not until you get cranky. I know Dean will be upset with me for saying these things to you, but you need to hear them from someone with no ulterior motive."
He leans back against the Dumpster, arching his back and grinning as a series of painful-sounding pops and cracks sound off from his body. "No, Dev, the war isn't over." Caleb leans forward again, a glint in his eyes. "It won't be over for a long time, if ever. So if you're going to walk away, make sure it's for the right reasons. Make sure it's because you don't think you can fight anymore, not because you're just so upset with Spike Kane you can't think straight. Please. Otherwise, it'll all be for nothing, and if you're gone, who's Dean going to partner with? I know he'll miss you so."
"Speaking of tag teams..." Caleb inhales through his nose, taking in the scent of the city with a grin as he steps forward. "Pax...Pax, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got saddled with that waste of space Jason Sandman last we met. It's not fair to you. Just like it's not fair for you to claim I've got no ambition. I have plenty of ambition. I just don't have your ego. See, my ambitions are for the group. My ambitions are that we all succeed, that we all triumph in this life of ours. My ego says that it's alright if my successes come last, or in a team. I'm there when my family needs me, not whenever I feel the itch to go flounce about like a showboating moron. I'm not Steve Awesome."
Caleb grins at the camera and the gratuitous shot, continuing. "But you, Pax...with Witherspoon out of action, it's all on your shoulders. Can you keep up, buddy? Can you handle the pressure? There's no shame in walking this road with backup. All you need to do is say the word. The Pack is always looking out for those who need our help...and you, Pax, you need help." Caleb extends his hand to the camera, smiling. It's unsettling...and yet, it seems genuine. "Let us help you, Pax. Don't drown alone when you could rise above the tides, triumphant, with allies. With a family."
Caleb sighs, pulling his hand back. "I can only offer. The decisions are in your hands. But during the Roulette, we reshape our fate. In the Roulette, we choose a new course for our lives. In the Roulette, the world changes...and we are that change. Brothers and sisters...howl with us, as we usher in a new era." He grins at the camera. "See you soon." Caleb waves at the camera, smiling, and gently shoves it back, letting it tip up to the night sky as we fade.
Caleb looked over at the source of the voice, his eyebrow going up as he recognized the man running towards him. "Juan? What is it?"
Juan, the man Caleb had rescued in Mexico, skidded up next to him, matching the taller man's pace. "I was looking for you. Someone said you seemed mad. What's going on?"
Caleb shook his head, sighing as he looked over at Juan. "It's nothing. I just need to go have a conversation with Dean. I'll be fine."
"You have a lot of those." Juan observed, tilting his head. "What do you talk about?"
"A lot of things." Caleb shrugged, continuing to walk. "Mostly the business of the Pack. Doesn't always end up being terribly productive, but they're conversations that need to be had."
Juan nodded, continuing to follow Caleb. "Dean gets...very mad sometimes. Frustrated with us, Sara especially. I don't know why. She's touched en la cabeza. Doesn't like talking about it. Very sweet, though. Very pretty."[/font]
Caleb nodded slowly, sighing. "She wasn't always this way. She was a reporter, tracking down the Pack for a podcast. Then we found her, and...I don't know. She vanished for a while. Dean said he was taking care of her. Then, he used her as bait, and...I don't know. She doesn't talk like the woman I've heard on the podcasts anymore." Caleb cracked his neck. "Something isn't right about it all."
"And you think Dean doesn't tell you the whole story?" Juan offered. Caleb nodded silently, and Juan tapped his chin, inhaling through his nose. "Why not?"
Caleb shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. One way or another, I'm going to find out. More importantly right now, I'm going to take care of Sara. If he insists on treating her like a piece of castoff garbage, then he's forgetting his place."
Juan nodded again, looking over at Caleb. "You notice how he gets different, right?"
Caleb grimaced. "I wish I didn't. I want to believe it's just his condition, but...I can't risk that starting to spill over. You all are family, just the same as myself or Brooklyn or Maxine. Just because you don't fight for the Pack doesn't mean you're not Pack. We don't neglect you. We can't."
He paused in his tracks, looking over to Juan. "Tell you what. Can you run to the kitchens for me? Go grab a plate of whatever's being served and bring it back to Sara's room. She needs to eat. I'm going to go take care of something."
Juan nodded, tilting his head in curiosity. "What are you taking care of?"
Caleb paused, shaking his head. "I'm making sure he's busy. I don't want anyone bothering her, Juan. Just make sure Sara's okay. Can you do that for me?" Juan nodded, turning and walking down another hallway. Caleb took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as he watched Juan walk away. After a few moments, he picked back up his pace, heading down the hall and disappearing out of sight.
We open on Caleb in an alleyway, leaning against a Dumpster beneath a guttering light in the dark of the night. For once, he seems at home in his environment, almost blending in with a practiced ease born of many years. He huddles his knees to his chest, rocking slightly where he sits, and smiles softly. "It's always nice to come home. Not home home, but...home. The place I counted on for so long. The streets will always have you, whether you let them or not. They're like a mother, you see, a mother who never wants her children to leave. So she finds ways of keeping you there, insisting you can't make it on your own...I found my way, but every once in a while, it helps to remind myself where I come from."
He looks up, head thumping gently against the wall of the Dumpster as he speaks, feet tapping against the gravel. "Nighthawk, you asked to be put into this match early. Number one, as it happens. Why? Because you think that the farther you go, the more people will respect you? Nobody will respect you, Tristan, because they don't believe you're worthy of respect. I happen to know they're wrong. I happen to know that the only reason some of these men stand a chance is that you're starting things out with Spike Kane. At 100%, one-on-one, you'd tear them apart. So they hide behind bluster and venom, praying they won't be the focus of your wrath."
Caleb chuckles, a rueful smile on his face. "I hope I get the chance to wrestle with you again, Tristan. I do. Every time we touch, it makes me feel alive again in a way that nobody else really does. You remind me of earlier years, simpler years, when a company sought me out and gave me the chance to feel wanted. You were the man that taught me my self-worth on this grand stage, Tristan, and I owe you for that kindness." He looks down again, smile fading. "But you stand between my family and success, and as much as I love you like a brother I can't let you stop them. We're going to fight, Tristan. It's going to be ugly, and I'm not going to enjoy it, but I know it'll happen. Just know...I never hated you. I never will."
Caleb boosts himself to a standing position, cracking his neck. "One man I'm growing to hate, though, is Devlin Raine. I tolerate you for Dean's sake, Devlin, but I think you're just as big a hypocrite as any of them. If you really cared about what was right, would you threaten to walk away if you didn't get a title shot? I don't think so. You fight the good fight until it's done, Dev, not until you get cranky. I know Dean will be upset with me for saying these things to you, but you need to hear them from someone with no ulterior motive."
He leans back against the Dumpster, arching his back and grinning as a series of painful-sounding pops and cracks sound off from his body. "No, Dev, the war isn't over." Caleb leans forward again, a glint in his eyes. "It won't be over for a long time, if ever. So if you're going to walk away, make sure it's for the right reasons. Make sure it's because you don't think you can fight anymore, not because you're just so upset with Spike Kane you can't think straight. Please. Otherwise, it'll all be for nothing, and if you're gone, who's Dean going to partner with? I know he'll miss you so."
"Speaking of tag teams..." Caleb inhales through his nose, taking in the scent of the city with a grin as he steps forward. "Pax...Pax, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got saddled with that waste of space Jason Sandman last we met. It's not fair to you. Just like it's not fair for you to claim I've got no ambition. I have plenty of ambition. I just don't have your ego. See, my ambitions are for the group. My ambitions are that we all succeed, that we all triumph in this life of ours. My ego says that it's alright if my successes come last, or in a team. I'm there when my family needs me, not whenever I feel the itch to go flounce about like a showboating moron. I'm not Steve Awesome."
Caleb grins at the camera and the gratuitous shot, continuing. "But you, Pax...with Witherspoon out of action, it's all on your shoulders. Can you keep up, buddy? Can you handle the pressure? There's no shame in walking this road with backup. All you need to do is say the word. The Pack is always looking out for those who need our help...and you, Pax, you need help." Caleb extends his hand to the camera, smiling. It's unsettling...and yet, it seems genuine. "Let us help you, Pax. Don't drown alone when you could rise above the tides, triumphant, with allies. With a family."
Caleb sighs, pulling his hand back. "I can only offer. The decisions are in your hands. But during the Roulette, we reshape our fate. In the Roulette, we choose a new course for our lives. In the Roulette, the world changes...and we are that change. Brothers and sisters...howl with us, as we usher in a new era." He grins at the camera. "See you soon." Caleb waves at the camera, smiling, and gently shoves it back, letting it tip up to the night sky as we fade.
Well howdy there pardner.