Post by James Gilmore on Jul 23, 2018 4:55:49 GMT
Continued from the previous episode “Pure Energy”...
With his older brother Johnny waiting for their pizza to arrive, we find James Gilmore and Mr. Sergei Malakova--Yulia’s father--inside the former’s office. Under normal circumstances, the ex-Islander felt as if he was the captain of some famous starship, going over reports from his subordinates on his personal Android tablet while listening to some classic 80s hair metal bands. Yet at this hour, as day was slowly turning into night, the younger Gilmore felt an entirely different aura around him as he watched the Headmaster of the Palace of Lost Souls trudge along the carpeted floor.
The roles were reversed.
It was James that was on the other side of the desk in the captain’s ready room, about to be given a thorough dressing-down from his superior officer. In this case, Sergei was not very happy about the events that led up to his daughter being taken prisoner by Dean Harper and Company.
“Mr. Malakova...I woulda called ya on Skype to apologize to ya for--”
“Spare me your foolish American platitudes, Mr. Gilmore! I have spoken to your management plus read your security guard friend’s full situation report,” Sergei interrupted with a dictatorial sneer.
“Then you’d know how brave Yulia has been these past two months in spite of bein' cooped up in that hellhole,” James said sheepishly, trying to counter the headmaster’s fury. “She’s braver than I’ll ever be, and that oughta say somethin'.”
“She would not have had to be brave had you not put her in danger in the FIRST place!,” Mr. Malakova said through gritted teeth, his thick Chechan dialect not even masking his anger. “I cannot claim to know what was, or what is, going on in your own mind all this time, but quite frankly...I do not care. I want a strong explanation from you, Mr. Gilmore...and I want it now.”
“Dude! Ahem, sir…,” the Islander alum said, clearing his throat. Sergei gave him a contemptible death stare, for nobody had dared to call him ‘dude’ as the Palace’s head honcho. He was an authority figure who prided himself in his own military career with the then-Soviet Navy, someone who was supposed to be respected by all, and he paced around the room, staring at James’ vast book collection while listening intently to what he had to say.
“I wish I could give an explanation for what went down that night she was taken,” James started, then paused to take a sip from a can of real-sugar Pepsi. “But there’s just certain things that can’t be explained. All I can tell ya is that he has had her cooped up for two months in a Pennsylvania ghost town, and any attempt to simply barge in the front door or make a frontal assault against his team of bogus sycophants would be outright suicidal! And it don’t help that there’s another group that thinks they’re the second comin’ of Jesus Christ! It’s a war out there with evil on both sides, that’s all I can say. To just start pokin’ at both them beehives now, even if my motives were justified, would be…moronic...and it would gain me nothin’ except even more unpleasant vibes."
James shook his head and took a deep breath, praying that Mr. Malakova wouldn’t get to the point when he’d box his ears in for giving a ‘wrong’ answer. Yet without warning, his expression began to change. The ‘concerned father’ look he sported was gone, replaced by a softer and, perhaps, conciliatory stare. It was still a stare in the younger Gilmore’s consciousness; yet it allowed him to breathe easier, if only for a fleeting moment.
“Impressive Mr. Gilmore,” he quipped. “You have mastered one of the four Palace pillars.”
"Discipline," the Islander alum spoke with a mellow, soft tone in his own voice. “Without discipline, duty and honor would have no meanin’, and thus....there would be no sense of excellence.”
The Palace headmaster looked up a small poster that hung above the younger Gilmore brother’s trophy case, that featured the four words ‘DUTY. HONOR. DISCIPLINE. EXCELLENCE,’ in amazement. Seven months ago, James had entered the famed martial arts institution possessing a competitive drive that would often get him into trouble. Now Mr. Malakova finally realized that, perhaps, his old subordinate was changing right in front of his eyes.
Evolving...for the better.
“I can see why she wanted you to train at the Palace,” he intoned proudly. “She...truly loves you.”
“I'd be at a much worse place right now had it not been for your daughter. That’s why I’m doin’ this Heir to the Throne tournament now,” James said as he checked the schedule on his Android tablet. “No matter what happens from here on out, I’m doin’ this for you, for her, for my friends and family...and for all those victims of those glorified pain cults. Besides...I wanna live the rest of my life knowin’ that I’m gonna have people to turn to--even if everyone else around me, ya know, dies.”
Sergei warmly nodded his head, watching with wonder as the former Palace trainee sat back down in his chair and swiveled to face the window,which had a stunning view of the Gulf of Mexico. Yet on this night, James had a surprise in mind as his thoughts continued to dwell upon his love.
“When this is all over sir, win or lose, I wanna ask ya somethin’. It’s...kinda personal though; ya don’t have to answer if ya don’t want to.”
Mr. Malakova patted James on the shoulder as the latter began to meditate about happier times.
“Go on right ahead, ask away.”
James cleared his throat before panning his gaze upon a model of the famed Galaxy-class starship USS Enterprise-D from Star Trek: The Next Generation, a cherished momento that his beloved grandfather David had given to him when he was a child. He then looked down upon a framed black-and-white photograph of him and Yulia that was taken while on the world’s largest cruise liner, the Harmony of the Seas.
“Yulia and I are gonna be goin’ on a Star Trek-themed cruise in September, and I was wonderin’ if…”
James paused for a moment, then closed his eyes. This September would mark two years since he had met Yulia on that famous 14-day voyage, and even though most of the time from then until now was quite painful for his own psyche, deep in his soul he loved her with all his heart. In his mind, he wanted to get the formalities out of the way before things got too hectic in his professional life.
“If ya wouldn’t mind, ya know...me marryin’ her.”
James took a deep breath, sighing for the fact that he’d gotten that particular query out of the way, and now...he awaited the older gent’s response. Mr. Malakova perked up his right brow before smirking from ear to ear...yet masking a hint of authoritative subtlety. Both men gave off warm and gentle auras as the villa’s doorbell rang.
The ex-Islander figured the chime meant one thing: the pizza had arrived.
As he exited the office, Yulia’s father eked out a sly chuckle, as if he had something up his sleeve.
“Hrmmm...I will think about it, take your question under advisement, then get back to you later.”
Yet after he said that statement, Sergei stopped in his tracks for a moment. His eyes began to tear up slightly as his focus shifted towards James' desk, where the photo in question sat. Slowly, he trudged over to take a closer look at the precious keepsake, and for what it was worth...he mustered a hearty smile upon seeing the couple sharing and enjoying the moments they had while on the famed cruise ship.
He nodded his head, his demeanor gentle and kind...yet he could only whisper a single, solitary word from under his breath:
"Yes..."
To be continued…
With his older brother Johnny waiting for their pizza to arrive, we find James Gilmore and Mr. Sergei Malakova--Yulia’s father--inside the former’s office. Under normal circumstances, the ex-Islander felt as if he was the captain of some famous starship, going over reports from his subordinates on his personal Android tablet while listening to some classic 80s hair metal bands. Yet at this hour, as day was slowly turning into night, the younger Gilmore felt an entirely different aura around him as he watched the Headmaster of the Palace of Lost Souls trudge along the carpeted floor.
The roles were reversed.
It was James that was on the other side of the desk in the captain’s ready room, about to be given a thorough dressing-down from his superior officer. In this case, Sergei was not very happy about the events that led up to his daughter being taken prisoner by Dean Harper and Company.
“Mr. Malakova...I woulda called ya on Skype to apologize to ya for--”
“Spare me your foolish American platitudes, Mr. Gilmore! I have spoken to your management plus read your security guard friend’s full situation report,” Sergei interrupted with a dictatorial sneer.
“Then you’d know how brave Yulia has been these past two months in spite of bein' cooped up in that hellhole,” James said sheepishly, trying to counter the headmaster’s fury. “She’s braver than I’ll ever be, and that oughta say somethin'.”
“She would not have had to be brave had you not put her in danger in the FIRST place!,” Mr. Malakova said through gritted teeth, his thick Chechan dialect not even masking his anger. “I cannot claim to know what was, or what is, going on in your own mind all this time, but quite frankly...I do not care. I want a strong explanation from you, Mr. Gilmore...and I want it now.”
“Dude! Ahem, sir…,” the Islander alum said, clearing his throat. Sergei gave him a contemptible death stare, for nobody had dared to call him ‘dude’ as the Palace’s head honcho. He was an authority figure who prided himself in his own military career with the then-Soviet Navy, someone who was supposed to be respected by all, and he paced around the room, staring at James’ vast book collection while listening intently to what he had to say.
“I wish I could give an explanation for what went down that night she was taken,” James started, then paused to take a sip from a can of real-sugar Pepsi. “But there’s just certain things that can’t be explained. All I can tell ya is that he has had her cooped up for two months in a Pennsylvania ghost town, and any attempt to simply barge in the front door or make a frontal assault against his team of bogus sycophants would be outright suicidal! And it don’t help that there’s another group that thinks they’re the second comin’ of Jesus Christ! It’s a war out there with evil on both sides, that’s all I can say. To just start pokin’ at both them beehives now, even if my motives were justified, would be…moronic...and it would gain me nothin’ except even more unpleasant vibes."
James shook his head and took a deep breath, praying that Mr. Malakova wouldn’t get to the point when he’d box his ears in for giving a ‘wrong’ answer. Yet without warning, his expression began to change. The ‘concerned father’ look he sported was gone, replaced by a softer and, perhaps, conciliatory stare. It was still a stare in the younger Gilmore’s consciousness; yet it allowed him to breathe easier, if only for a fleeting moment.
“Impressive Mr. Gilmore,” he quipped. “You have mastered one of the four Palace pillars.”
"Discipline," the Islander alum spoke with a mellow, soft tone in his own voice. “Without discipline, duty and honor would have no meanin’, and thus....there would be no sense of excellence.”
The Palace headmaster looked up a small poster that hung above the younger Gilmore brother’s trophy case, that featured the four words ‘DUTY. HONOR. DISCIPLINE. EXCELLENCE,’ in amazement. Seven months ago, James had entered the famed martial arts institution possessing a competitive drive that would often get him into trouble. Now Mr. Malakova finally realized that, perhaps, his old subordinate was changing right in front of his eyes.
Evolving...for the better.
“I can see why she wanted you to train at the Palace,” he intoned proudly. “She...truly loves you.”
“I'd be at a much worse place right now had it not been for your daughter. That’s why I’m doin’ this Heir to the Throne tournament now,” James said as he checked the schedule on his Android tablet. “No matter what happens from here on out, I’m doin’ this for you, for her, for my friends and family...and for all those victims of those glorified pain cults. Besides...I wanna live the rest of my life knowin’ that I’m gonna have people to turn to--even if everyone else around me, ya know, dies.”
Sergei warmly nodded his head, watching with wonder as the former Palace trainee sat back down in his chair and swiveled to face the window,which had a stunning view of the Gulf of Mexico. Yet on this night, James had a surprise in mind as his thoughts continued to dwell upon his love.
“When this is all over sir, win or lose, I wanna ask ya somethin’. It’s...kinda personal though; ya don’t have to answer if ya don’t want to.”
Mr. Malakova patted James on the shoulder as the latter began to meditate about happier times.
“Go on right ahead, ask away.”
James cleared his throat before panning his gaze upon a model of the famed Galaxy-class starship USS Enterprise-D from Star Trek: The Next Generation, a cherished momento that his beloved grandfather David had given to him when he was a child. He then looked down upon a framed black-and-white photograph of him and Yulia that was taken while on the world’s largest cruise liner, the Harmony of the Seas.
“Yulia and I are gonna be goin’ on a Star Trek-themed cruise in September, and I was wonderin’ if…”
James paused for a moment, then closed his eyes. This September would mark two years since he had met Yulia on that famous 14-day voyage, and even though most of the time from then until now was quite painful for his own psyche, deep in his soul he loved her with all his heart. In his mind, he wanted to get the formalities out of the way before things got too hectic in his professional life.
“If ya wouldn’t mind, ya know...me marryin’ her.”
James took a deep breath, sighing for the fact that he’d gotten that particular query out of the way, and now...he awaited the older gent’s response. Mr. Malakova perked up his right brow before smirking from ear to ear...yet masking a hint of authoritative subtlety. Both men gave off warm and gentle auras as the villa’s doorbell rang.
The ex-Islander figured the chime meant one thing: the pizza had arrived.
As he exited the office, Yulia’s father eked out a sly chuckle, as if he had something up his sleeve.
“Hrmmm...I will think about it, take your question under advisement, then get back to you later.”
Yet after he said that statement, Sergei stopped in his tracks for a moment. His eyes began to tear up slightly as his focus shifted towards James' desk, where the photo in question sat. Slowly, he trudged over to take a closer look at the precious keepsake, and for what it was worth...he mustered a hearty smile upon seeing the couple sharing and enjoying the moments they had while on the famed cruise ship.
He nodded his head, his demeanor gentle and kind...yet he could only whisper a single, solitary word from under his breath:
"Yes..."
To be continued…
Well howdy there pardner.