Post by Notorious B.O.B. on Aug 22, 2014 19:35:57 GMT
THEN: Interrogation Room
Cold. It's the first thought that runs through his mind as he sits there. The grey, cinderblock walls; the steel topped table; and the chains … worn dull over the years. Shiver after shiver seemed to run down his spine until he felt like he was convulsing. He waited, almost longing for their warmth, but the tears weren’t coming. The men across the table, Detectives Leroque and Vash, weren’t doing the usual ‘good cop, bad cop’ shtick.
“Listen, Mr. Pooler,” Laroque took the lead, “we know you and Ms. Walsh,” somewhere inside he chuckled, having almost forgotten about Holli’s legal name. She’d been Holli Would for years after all, “we know that there was an argument between the two of you. Several neighbors reported hearing you two going at it on the front lawn.” Laroque dragged his finger down a piece of paper, no doubt filled with the ‘eye witness accounts’ of his big.stupid.mouth.
The detectives were waiting, Waiting for him to break down into tears and confess, plead for forgiveness, something … anything. Instead, he closed his eyes and even went straight to that place he always seemed to go when he closed his eyes.
Holli standing there, refusing to move from her doorway; the look on her face a mixture of fear and exasperation. She looked like a fish, opening and closing her mouth, searching for the words to explain what was going on.
He’d given her a chance to spill – no more secrets … get it all out there in the open. Sure, he’d been a little dramatic; but who could blame him. He stepped back from the door, spreading his arms wide and shouted to the sky, hoping more than a few neighbors heard him.
He knew that. From the moment the cold metal of the handcuffs were felt on his wrists he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. “At this point, your best bet is to work with us; let us know what happened and things will go a lot smoother.”
Translation: ‘confess you piece of shit’
“Mr. Pooler?” Vash was leaning forward, his knuckles flat against the metal table. “Tell us what happened.”
He chuckles at the self deprecating humor before continuing. “What’s at stake here, hmmm?” he smiles. “Your title? I don’t care about that, I haven’t cared about titles since this company decided to shit on the legacy I built with the Cruiserweight. How many months ago was it now?” He looks down at his fingers, counting the months off as he goes, “I’d gone and built up that belt, that entire division into something to behold. While you were diddling vampires I was shutting up every man, woman and child who kept saying that I couldn’t do it … I couldn’t keep winning.” He drills his index finger into the table, his eyes staring, unblinkingly, into the camera.
“But I did. I kept winning, and winning … and winning. That is until the brilliant minds behind genius moves like Davey Ortega’s bullshit win over Kane, or Laszlo becoming the Heir to the Throne decided to merge my title …” he pauses, “with that filthy mongrel title. “ he spits.
“Bitter doesn’t even begin to brush the surface of my emotions” he says, as though reading the minds of those watching the feed. “Bates did nothing with his title, and he’s certainly done nothing since becoming the Invisible … excuse me, InVictus champion.
But you, Renee …” he sings, “you’ve brought a gleam to my eye for some time now. You broke out onto the scene like a bat out of hell. We may not understand much of what comes out of your mouth, but the message is loud and clear. So riddle me this, what’s changed?
Unless you’ve had some kind of major change of heart – why should I bother listening to anything you have to say? I’ve heard the whispers about you, the rumors about the things you’ve done … and I just can’t help but hope …” he says, grinning,
“That it’s all true” he coos.
“Sure, deep down I’m sure there’s a scared little boy just praying to get a hug; but what I’m really hoping for is a depraved monster trying to push him back down. I want you believe in your Renee, I to with all my heart … because that will mean that we’re not that different. Both of us seem ruled by one thing …"
he licks his lips, “a desire to see that light go out in the eyes of someone else.
You’ve probably read me the riot act at this point, and I’ve half a mind to go and listen to it. But it won’t change things, will it? Can responding to you grant me some super secret bonuses that’ll help me overcome the odds?
Probably not, but then again I don’t speak ‘traveler’ so I’d be like watching Snatch all over again, eh? So where’s that leave us then? Looks like it leaves us with only one option; beat the bag out of each other until only one of us can stand. You know that’s the only way that this whole thing will end right?
I’ve taken this thing about as far as I can, Renee, pushed you into a corner just to see what kind of man you really are. Have you grown soft and complacent, or will some semblance of that beast in you rise to the occasion?
I’ve been warned not to play with my food …” he stops, his palms flat on the table and seems to gather himself. When next he looks up into the camera he’s calm, collected and speaking with a different cadence.
“Call me a follower, call me a mindless sheep, call me what you will – soon you’ll be calling me a fucking prophet, because everything will have played out just like I said it would. Every name that has stepped up in our way has been scratched off.”
He places his hands together, nestling his chin and lips against his steepled fingers for a moment before nodding with a smile. “There have been bumps in the road on the path to salvation, but these are nothing more than challenged to test our faith. We’ve all been faced with challenges to test us – find out if we’re actually worthy. Last week, last week I stumbled … I didn’t trust in HIS will and found myself punished. I’ve been absolved of my sins, and you, Renee, are my sacrifice to HIM.
Don’t think for a second that I’m going to take this easy. If this is really happening, then the fans are in for a fucking massacre. The bloodthirsty of this sport will get their fill watching their erstwhile champion getting ripped apart by the Big Bad Wolf ... by the right hand of fucking GOD. I am going to use this as a chance to make a definitive, violent statement. Not just to those who want that title, but to those who doubt the power of the Age of X and the will of God.
After this weekend the doubters will be silenced and the faithful rewarded.
This … is the word of the Lord …
thanks be to GOD!”
THEN: Interrogation Room
How did everything go to shit? How is it that everything in his life just up and went to hell? A few days ago he was working up the courage to propose, and now he’s staring down the wrong end of an awfully bad looking charge.
“What happened?” he replied, his voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know what the hell happened.” He doesn’t mean to, but his volume rises to an accusatory level. Detective Vash either doesn’t notice, or chooses not to. “Ok, let me try and paint a picture for you – maybe that’ll help jog your memory, hmm?” His partner holds out a piece of paper for him; Vash grabbing and shaking it in his left hand. “We have three eyewitness accounts who put you at Ms. Walsh’s residence yesterday in a very,” he glances down at the paper, reading a direct statement, “’very agitated state’”. Laroque looks from Pooler up to his partner and then back. “Why don’t you tell us why you were so upset."
Why was he so upset? Are these guys for real? Who wouldn’t have been upset? He and Holli’d been on and off for nearly two years, but low and behold she’d been on and off someone else for the past few months. “I was upset because I’d just found out that Holli,” Vash turns and interrupts, “Ms. Walsh?” Pooler nods his head, looking back to Laroque, “I’d just found out she’d been seeing someone else. Well, I already kind of knew it … but I actually saw them together …” he can’t help but hang his head, the image of her walking passed him and getting into the car with him; with Lance.
“You know,” Vash starts, “I can imagine you were pretty upset,” Laroque nods his head in agreement but Pooler just looks up, meeting their eyes and shakes his head. “Upset? Upset doesn’t even BEGIN to describe how I felt. I was angry … but not at Holli, at myself for being so blind. I was hurt, man … ya know?” he says, sniffing and dropping his head into his hands.
The detectives exchange a glance at each other, Vash mouthing something along the lines of, ‘push him?’ to Laroque who nods back. Vash takes his seat again, tapping his fingers on the table and watching his partner out of the corner of his eye. Laroque, sudden and swift, brings the palm of his hand down on the table. Pooler shoots up straight, the chains connected to his cuffs jangling as he leans back away from the table, eyes wide.
“Whu …” he manages to mutter before Laroque holds out his hand, silencing him instantly. “Enough bullshit, we’re done.” he growls. Vash slowly slides his chair to the side, giving Laroque more room to work Pooler over. “D’you think we’re idiots here? Think this is our first time with something like this? Let me tell you something, we’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s trying to sell us a load of shit … and you’re not even doing a good job. This sanctimonious garbage might be enough to sell yourself to the twelve year olds who watch your ass on television, but its’ going to take a whole lot more to convince us. So why don’t we start from the top and you tell me why we shouldn’t just stick you in a dark hole somewhere after what you did to that poor girl."
Pooler’s mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out, his eyes wide and searching the faces in front of him for something … anything. “I … I …” he stammers. “You what?” Laroque asks snidely. “Something you want to tell us?” he says, leering down at Pooler who nods – his wide eyes narrowing as his mouth closes and through gritted teeth he snarls, “I want my lawyer.”
NOW: Hotel Room
Her eyes seemed to plead with him, begging him to stop. Her skin felt raw and sore from the tightness of the bungee cord that’d been used to bind her hands together. Lying there, in the middle of the bed, open and exposed.
The back of his hand gently caressed her face, wiping at the tears streaking down her cheek. She buried her face into the bed, shrinking away from his touch and letting a small whimper escape.
Leaning down, the scruff of his beard brushing against her cheek, his breath stinking of drink and tobacco, he soothingly shushed while dragging a finger down from the back of her ear to the nape of her neck. Slowly, he dragged it around, tracing his way around her collarbone and back up to her jawline, lifting and turning her chin to face him. With a smile, he tucks the greasy hair hanging like a curtain in his face behind an ear and bites at his bottom lip.
Terror washes over her face as he leans in, brushing his cheek against hers and hissing in barely a whisper, “You hurt me, but that’s ok … it’s ok … shhhhhh” Closing his eyes, rubbing his cheek against hers he smiles and takes a small sniff of her hair before coming back to her ear. “It’s ok, I forgive you. I don’t care why you did it; I forgive you.” He lifts his face from hers, smiling and cradling her face in his hands. “I knew if I prayed hard enough he’d find you for me … and I’m never going to lose you again, Holli …
never again …”
Cold. It's the first thought that runs through his mind as he sits there. The grey, cinderblock walls; the steel topped table; and the chains … worn dull over the years. Shiver after shiver seemed to run down his spine until he felt like he was convulsing. He waited, almost longing for their warmth, but the tears weren’t coming. The men across the table, Detectives Leroque and Vash, weren’t doing the usual ‘good cop, bad cop’ shtick.
“Listen, Mr. Pooler,” Laroque took the lead, “we know you and Ms. Walsh,” somewhere inside he chuckled, having almost forgotten about Holli’s legal name. She’d been Holli Would for years after all, “we know that there was an argument between the two of you. Several neighbors reported hearing you two going at it on the front lawn.” Laroque dragged his finger down a piece of paper, no doubt filled with the ‘eye witness accounts’ of his big.stupid.mouth.
The detectives were waiting, Waiting for him to break down into tears and confess, plead for forgiveness, something … anything. Instead, he closed his eyes and even went straight to that place he always seemed to go when he closed his eyes.
Holli standing there, refusing to move from her doorway; the look on her face a mixture of fear and exasperation. She looked like a fish, opening and closing her mouth, searching for the words to explain what was going on.
He’d given her a chance to spill – no more secrets … get it all out there in the open. Sure, he’d been a little dramatic; but who could blame him. He stepped back from the door, spreading his arms wide and shouted to the sky, hoping more than a few neighbors heard him.
”DO YOU WANT ALL YOUR NEIGHBORS TO KNOW ABOUT THE WHORE LIVING NEXT DOOR?”
He paused, pointing at her in the entryway, ”HOW ABOUT WE TELL THE NEIGHBORS ABOUT HOW LONG YOU’VE WHORING YOURSELF OUT TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER. TELL ‘EM WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR BROTHER, HOLLI … TELL THEM WHY JACOB WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM YOU … TELL THEM!”
He stops; his chest heaving and the breath escaping from him in gasping puffs of steam.
His eyes stung with the pain of tears that wouldn’t come. The comment was a low blow – maybe she deserved it, maybe she didn’t. If he could go back and do it all again, that might not be the biggest regret he had of the whole incident. It would probably have been what came after he’d taken back some of his things and instead of driving away, instead of just throwing up his middle finger as he watched her grow smaller in the rearview mirror, he’d let his temper get the best of him.
”Don’t even think of contacting me after this, Holli … you … Lance … all of this … DEAD to me. You hear that, bitch … YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME!”
“Mr. Pooler …” his eyes snapped back open, focusing on the gentlemen sitting opposite him. Vash, standing up and pushing in his chair begins pacing behind his partner. “This isn’t like the movies,” he says, glancing towards the man chained to the table, “there isn’t going to be a happy ending here; you need to know that.”
He knew that. From the moment the cold metal of the handcuffs were felt on his wrists he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. “At this point, your best bet is to work with us; let us know what happened and things will go a lot smoother.”
Translation: ‘confess you piece of shit’
“Mr. Pooler?” Vash was leaning forward, his knuckles flat against the metal table. “Tell us what happened.”
_____________
“Well, isn’t this cute,” he chuckles as the camera focuses in on his face. “I turn my head and the next thing I know it’s that time of the month.” Smiling, he strokes at his beard, “time for the usual monologues from everyone’s favorite gypsy. Funny, you seem to do a better job coming out of the woodwork when it matters than I do … and that’s saying something."He chuckles at the self deprecating humor before continuing. “What’s at stake here, hmmm?” he smiles. “Your title? I don’t care about that, I haven’t cared about titles since this company decided to shit on the legacy I built with the Cruiserweight. How many months ago was it now?” He looks down at his fingers, counting the months off as he goes, “I’d gone and built up that belt, that entire division into something to behold. While you were diddling vampires I was shutting up every man, woman and child who kept saying that I couldn’t do it … I couldn’t keep winning.” He drills his index finger into the table, his eyes staring, unblinkingly, into the camera.
“But I did. I kept winning, and winning … and winning. That is until the brilliant minds behind genius moves like Davey Ortega’s bullshit win over Kane, or Laszlo becoming the Heir to the Throne decided to merge my title …” he pauses, “with that filthy mongrel title. “ he spits.
“Bitter doesn’t even begin to brush the surface of my emotions” he says, as though reading the minds of those watching the feed. “Bates did nothing with his title, and he’s certainly done nothing since becoming the Invisible … excuse me, InVictus champion.
But you, Renee …” he sings, “you’ve brought a gleam to my eye for some time now. You broke out onto the scene like a bat out of hell. We may not understand much of what comes out of your mouth, but the message is loud and clear. So riddle me this, what’s changed?
Unless you’ve had some kind of major change of heart – why should I bother listening to anything you have to say? I’ve heard the whispers about you, the rumors about the things you’ve done … and I just can’t help but hope …” he says, grinning,
“That it’s all true” he coos.
“Sure, deep down I’m sure there’s a scared little boy just praying to get a hug; but what I’m really hoping for is a depraved monster trying to push him back down. I want you believe in your Renee, I to with all my heart … because that will mean that we’re not that different. Both of us seem ruled by one thing …"
he licks his lips, “a desire to see that light go out in the eyes of someone else.
You’ve probably read me the riot act at this point, and I’ve half a mind to go and listen to it. But it won’t change things, will it? Can responding to you grant me some super secret bonuses that’ll help me overcome the odds?
Probably not, but then again I don’t speak ‘traveler’ so I’d be like watching Snatch all over again, eh? So where’s that leave us then? Looks like it leaves us with only one option; beat the bag out of each other until only one of us can stand. You know that’s the only way that this whole thing will end right?
I’ve taken this thing about as far as I can, Renee, pushed you into a corner just to see what kind of man you really are. Have you grown soft and complacent, or will some semblance of that beast in you rise to the occasion?
I’ve been warned not to play with my food …” he stops, his palms flat on the table and seems to gather himself. When next he looks up into the camera he’s calm, collected and speaking with a different cadence.
“Call me a follower, call me a mindless sheep, call me what you will – soon you’ll be calling me a fucking prophet, because everything will have played out just like I said it would. Every name that has stepped up in our way has been scratched off.”
He places his hands together, nestling his chin and lips against his steepled fingers for a moment before nodding with a smile. “There have been bumps in the road on the path to salvation, but these are nothing more than challenged to test our faith. We’ve all been faced with challenges to test us – find out if we’re actually worthy. Last week, last week I stumbled … I didn’t trust in HIS will and found myself punished. I’ve been absolved of my sins, and you, Renee, are my sacrifice to HIM.
Don’t think for a second that I’m going to take this easy. If this is really happening, then the fans are in for a fucking massacre. The bloodthirsty of this sport will get their fill watching their erstwhile champion getting ripped apart by the Big Bad Wolf ... by the right hand of fucking GOD. I am going to use this as a chance to make a definitive, violent statement. Not just to those who want that title, but to those who doubt the power of the Age of X and the will of God.
After this weekend the doubters will be silenced and the faithful rewarded.
This … is the word of the Lord …
thanks be to GOD!”
THEN: Interrogation Room
How did everything go to shit? How is it that everything in his life just up and went to hell? A few days ago he was working up the courage to propose, and now he’s staring down the wrong end of an awfully bad looking charge.
“What happened?” he replied, his voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know what the hell happened.” He doesn’t mean to, but his volume rises to an accusatory level. Detective Vash either doesn’t notice, or chooses not to. “Ok, let me try and paint a picture for you – maybe that’ll help jog your memory, hmm?” His partner holds out a piece of paper for him; Vash grabbing and shaking it in his left hand. “We have three eyewitness accounts who put you at Ms. Walsh’s residence yesterday in a very,” he glances down at the paper, reading a direct statement, “’very agitated state’”. Laroque looks from Pooler up to his partner and then back. “Why don’t you tell us why you were so upset."
Why was he so upset? Are these guys for real? Who wouldn’t have been upset? He and Holli’d been on and off for nearly two years, but low and behold she’d been on and off someone else for the past few months. “I was upset because I’d just found out that Holli,” Vash turns and interrupts, “Ms. Walsh?” Pooler nods his head, looking back to Laroque, “I’d just found out she’d been seeing someone else. Well, I already kind of knew it … but I actually saw them together …” he can’t help but hang his head, the image of her walking passed him and getting into the car with him; with Lance.
“You know,” Vash starts, “I can imagine you were pretty upset,” Laroque nods his head in agreement but Pooler just looks up, meeting their eyes and shakes his head. “Upset? Upset doesn’t even BEGIN to describe how I felt. I was angry … but not at Holli, at myself for being so blind. I was hurt, man … ya know?” he says, sniffing and dropping his head into his hands.
The detectives exchange a glance at each other, Vash mouthing something along the lines of, ‘push him?’ to Laroque who nods back. Vash takes his seat again, tapping his fingers on the table and watching his partner out of the corner of his eye. Laroque, sudden and swift, brings the palm of his hand down on the table. Pooler shoots up straight, the chains connected to his cuffs jangling as he leans back away from the table, eyes wide.
“Whu …” he manages to mutter before Laroque holds out his hand, silencing him instantly. “Enough bullshit, we’re done.” he growls. Vash slowly slides his chair to the side, giving Laroque more room to work Pooler over. “D’you think we’re idiots here? Think this is our first time with something like this? Let me tell you something, we’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s trying to sell us a load of shit … and you’re not even doing a good job. This sanctimonious garbage might be enough to sell yourself to the twelve year olds who watch your ass on television, but its’ going to take a whole lot more to convince us. So why don’t we start from the top and you tell me why we shouldn’t just stick you in a dark hole somewhere after what you did to that poor girl."
Pooler’s mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out, his eyes wide and searching the faces in front of him for something … anything. “I … I …” he stammers. “You what?” Laroque asks snidely. “Something you want to tell us?” he says, leering down at Pooler who nods – his wide eyes narrowing as his mouth closes and through gritted teeth he snarls, “I want my lawyer.”
NOW: Hotel Room
Her eyes seemed to plead with him, begging him to stop. Her skin felt raw and sore from the tightness of the bungee cord that’d been used to bind her hands together. Lying there, in the middle of the bed, open and exposed.
The back of his hand gently caressed her face, wiping at the tears streaking down her cheek. She buried her face into the bed, shrinking away from his touch and letting a small whimper escape.
Leaning down, the scruff of his beard brushing against her cheek, his breath stinking of drink and tobacco, he soothingly shushed while dragging a finger down from the back of her ear to the nape of her neck. Slowly, he dragged it around, tracing his way around her collarbone and back up to her jawline, lifting and turning her chin to face him. With a smile, he tucks the greasy hair hanging like a curtain in his face behind an ear and bites at his bottom lip.
Terror washes over her face as he leans in, brushing his cheek against hers and hissing in barely a whisper, “You hurt me, but that’s ok … it’s ok … shhhhhh” Closing his eyes, rubbing his cheek against hers he smiles and takes a small sniff of her hair before coming back to her ear. “It’s ok, I forgive you. I don’t care why you did it; I forgive you.” He lifts his face from hers, smiling and cradling her face in his hands. “I knew if I prayed hard enough he’d find you for me … and I’m never going to lose you again, Holli …
never again …”
Well howdy there pardner.