Post by Fiona McFly on Jan 4, 2016 2:55:04 GMT
Episode I
“IN THE BEGINNING...”
“IN THE BEGINNING...”
2 January 2015 - 10:30 PM (CST)
On a chilly early January night, we find ourselves back in the old, familiar confines that is the Arlington home belonging to Jack Gaither and Fiona McFly. As the Wisconsin alum steps out towards the back porch and its associated garden in her white heavy jacket, she spots her fiancee--sporting a dark red overcoat of his own--staring into a telescope, looking out into a starlit, crystal-clear sky.
FIONA MCFLY: How're you feeling?
JACK GAITHER: Oh, me? Welp, aside from a few bouts of the flu I'd say I'm pretty swell.
Jack chuckles to himself over the joke. Flu season has, for the most part, avoided him and Fiona with the exception of a few days since his return from his holiday at a Japanese monastery.
Yet Fiona notices something very different about him from what she's used to seeing.
FIONA: No...I meant mentally. You've been withdrawn ever since you came home. What's going on?
Fiona pulls up a lawn chair and sits down, watching as Jack slowly shakes his head.
JACK: It's just...I started rememberin' a lot of things when I was at the monastery—fragments of things that I've been tryin' to piece together like some jigsaw puzzle. And it's been screwin' up my mind—tearin' it in two—thus makin' my life force weak. It's as if I've been fightin' a civil war in my head for years without bein' able to control it..
FIONA: Life force?
JACK: Accordin' to the priest, it's a translation for a Japanese phrase that's unpronounceable. In a nutshell, your life force consists of your memories—good or bad. Your memories are manifested in the places you've seen and the people you've met—dead or alive—and a part of you is said to exist at that place, in that time, with that person. Your life force stays with you—forgin' you in the present and the future.
Fiona perks up her brow as Jack continues looking into his telescope.
FIONA: I think there's at least a 47% chance that what you're saying is rubbish.
The Texan scoffs, shrugging his shoulders as he looks toward his bride-to-be.
JACK: PFFFFFT...c'mon hun—surely ya oughta know that divin' into the spiritual plane just happens to be your family's wheelhouse, or haven't ya forgotten already?!
Fiona nods her head slightly, remember her family's most sacred--yet unusual--mind-meld tradition.
FIONA: Can you share them with me—your memories?
Jack sighs again, his face mustering a slight frown.
JACK: You don't wanna know.
FIONA: I want to know.
JACK: Ya wanna know?!
The Irishwoman grits her teeth, slamming her fist onto the white chair's arm.
FIONA: YES!! I want to understand you—there's so much that you've left unsaid. And I want to know those bloody things that make up your "life force" as you put it--I WANT to help you put things back together. Otherwise you can forget about our wedding.
Jack raises both brows, folding up the telescope as he looks at Fiona. Realizing just who actually wears the pants in the household, the Texan steps back and takes a seat on the lawn chair next to Fiona.
JACK: Where should I start?
FIONA: From the very beginning.
Jack closes his eyes, trying to conjure up part of his fragmented memories. He takes a deep breath just as Spot, the pretty gray tabby cat that's become sort of a mascot around the Gaithers' home, crawls on his lap.
JACK: It all started with my dad...
–----------
A month or so ago, I was determined to take hold of a division that had mired itself in corruption and strife. At first I wasn't looking for a revolution--but now it appears that the climate has changed.
I knew it was going to be a difficult sell as I strove to make working in the Diamonds division fun for everyone, but now it seems that I've attracted some rotting sort of negative attention from a variety of different ways. Through it all, I've never pretended to hide behind anyone or anything. I never slutted my way to being in the position I'm in now without EARNING it, but as unthinkable as some people in the IWF universe tend to think, the very division I compete in has been tainted by injustice, unsportingness, and an inability to stand up to the truth since its very founding. Those people are also blind to the direct cause of this corruption, they'll simply follow the water's flow 'til they meet their inevitable demise.
The source of this hollow bastion of untruthfulness, ladies and gentlemen, is right there before your very eyes.
Kathleen, how can you be the head of our Diamonds division when you yourself haven't won a single championship, fought a singular battle on the grappling stage, or achieved glory for your own personal sake--not for the sake of others? I can tell you why: it's 'cause you've done nothing else except hide behind Jake--the man whom you, in a blind alcohol-fueled tryst, STOLE from your own sister, your own flesh and blood. You've shamed EVERYONE you've ever come into contact with: your parents, your living relatives, your own sister...
...and me.
How dare you stand where more honourable people like Jessica Reed ought to stand. She originated the Diamonds division, took it to the top of the Imperial world over its own male roster--whilst you...bullied your way to the top, following a corporate agenda that preaches blind obedience and self-assurance instead of conducing yourself in the right manner. Tell EVERYONE in the IWF how you looked your sister in the eye as you wrongfully took her man away from her, but knowing you and your modus operandi, you'll simply run away when there's trouble brewing like a spot of Earl Grey.
I don't plan on allowing you to run from me.
Oh, you can send your new corporate pet Emma against me all you want to. You can use her as your attack puppet and have her do all kinds of despicable and pornographic tings to thing--in the figurative and literal sense--but in won't matter. You might be able to run and hide behind the proverbial closet or some mahogany desk somewhere, but I WILL find you and give you the justice that so many other Diamonds in our division would be dying to see. One way or the other, and as someone I know so aptly puts it, there's going to be a new Sheriff in the Diamonds division--someone who can stand up and take charge without fear of reprisal or retribution from the enemy. And given today's societal and political climate in which females are running for United States President on both sides of the spectrum, the person who WILL bring law, order, and civility back to the Diamonds division will be none other than yours truly.
You wanted a revolution Kathleen?
You've got one, starting with Eternity.
Let's see how well you can sleep in the bed that you've made yourself.
–------------
A month or so ago, I was determined to take hold of a division that had mired itself in corruption and strife. At first I wasn't looking for a revolution--but now it appears that the climate has changed.
I knew it was going to be a difficult sell as I strove to make working in the Diamonds division fun for everyone, but now it seems that I've attracted some rotting sort of negative attention from a variety of different ways. Through it all, I've never pretended to hide behind anyone or anything. I never slutted my way to being in the position I'm in now without EARNING it, but as unthinkable as some people in the IWF universe tend to think, the very division I compete in has been tainted by injustice, unsportingness, and an inability to stand up to the truth since its very founding. Those people are also blind to the direct cause of this corruption, they'll simply follow the water's flow 'til they meet their inevitable demise.
The source of this hollow bastion of untruthfulness, ladies and gentlemen, is right there before your very eyes.
Kathleen, how can you be the head of our Diamonds division when you yourself haven't won a single championship, fought a singular battle on the grappling stage, or achieved glory for your own personal sake--not for the sake of others? I can tell you why: it's 'cause you've done nothing else except hide behind Jake--the man whom you, in a blind alcohol-fueled tryst, STOLE from your own sister, your own flesh and blood. You've shamed EVERYONE you've ever come into contact with: your parents, your living relatives, your own sister...
...and me.
How dare you stand where more honourable people like Jessica Reed ought to stand. She originated the Diamonds division, took it to the top of the Imperial world over its own male roster--whilst you...bullied your way to the top, following a corporate agenda that preaches blind obedience and self-assurance instead of conducing yourself in the right manner. Tell EVERYONE in the IWF how you looked your sister in the eye as you wrongfully took her man away from her, but knowing you and your modus operandi, you'll simply run away when there's trouble brewing like a spot of Earl Grey.
I don't plan on allowing you to run from me.
Oh, you can send your new corporate pet Emma against me all you want to. You can use her as your attack puppet and have her do all kinds of despicable and pornographic tings to thing--in the figurative and literal sense--but in won't matter. You might be able to run and hide behind the proverbial closet or some mahogany desk somewhere, but I WILL find you and give you the justice that so many other Diamonds in our division would be dying to see. One way or the other, and as someone I know so aptly puts it, there's going to be a new Sheriff in the Diamonds division--someone who can stand up and take charge without fear of reprisal or retribution from the enemy. And given today's societal and political climate in which females are running for United States President on both sides of the spectrum, the person who WILL bring law, order, and civility back to the Diamonds division will be none other than yours truly.
You wanted a revolution Kathleen?
You've got one, starting with Eternity.
Let's see how well you can sleep in the bed that you've made yourself.
–------------
~THIRTY-THREE YEARS AGO~
March 24, 1982 – 3:30 PM (CST)
ARLINGTON, TX
”You'd have loved to meet my old man back in the day. From the stories he told me as a kid, when I was born he was merely a 22-year-old hotshot lieutenant in the Navy—callsign 'Skyfall.' He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed by any stretch—after all, my family name wasn't exactly the 'best' in the Navy—but he provided for me as only a father would. Yet when he drove a car...you'd have to hold on as he'd zip down that road like he was flyin' in the heavens above.”
The year is 1982. Tootsie, E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial, and An Officer and a Gentleman would go on to be the year's top grossing films. Ronald Reagan was into his 2nd year of his first term as U.S. President, and new TV shows like T.J. Hooker and Late Night with David Letterman were about to enter the collective consciousness of millions of American viewers.
Yet on a bright spring afternoon on a four lane stretch of road that comprises Division Street in Arlington, Texas, we see a bright yellow coupe zipping down at a high rate of speed. In the car's cab, we see Kirk Douglas Gaither and his passenger, Richard "Dick" Highway, as they travel down the congested roadways en route to Arlington Memorial Hospital, listening to "Heat of the Moment," a track from the rock band Asia's self-titled album, blasing from the car's stereo system.
LIEUTENANT RICHARD “DICK” HIGHWAY: Kirk, you're doin' 55 in a 40!
LIEUTENANT KIRK GAITHER: Dick, would ya do the same thing if ya had a wife in labor?!
DICK: Nah—I ain't married yet.
KIRK: Okie-doke then, perhaps you oughta stop gettin' laid with every single Dallas Deb in the state of Texas.
”Ahh yeah, Dick Hghway, callsign “Chewbacca”--or “Chewie” for short. Dick was a fellow lieutenant in the Navy—my dad's R.I.O. He had the full beard goin', thick black mullet, and a dick that was pumpin' all over the ladies of Dallas-Ft. Worth...at least, accordin' to legend. Despite all this, Dick was my old man's collective subconscious—a voice of reason whenever he decided to fly by the seat of his pants.”
Kirk grips the steering wheel like a madman, keeping one foot on the gas pedal as he weaves his way past other flustered motorists as if he was performing sleek aerial maneuvers, causing Highway to grab onto the car's lone "oh shit" handle above the passenger side door.
DICK: 'Ey, you can't just weave in and out of traffic like that—this ain't NASCAR ya know?!
KIRK: And Richard Petty ain't got nothin' on me.
The car races ahead, reaching the busy four-way intersection. As Ram Jam's "Black Betty" begins to blare, Kirk zips through the intersection, leaving cars spinning and nearly wrecking into each other.
DICK: Whoa there, cowboy—you just ran that red light over there!
KIRK: Will ya SHUDDUP!?! Stop side-seat drivin'!
A terrified Dick smacks his Navy friend on the shoulder.
DICK: I can't help it, bub—you're actin' like you're flyin' a goddamn $47 million F-14! You're gonna get us BOTH killed!
KIRK: A'righty then, YOU drive the fuckin' car--with YOUR luck, you'll get us to the hospital just after my wife and kid are able to come home!
Reaching another intersection, Kirk throws the steering wheel over to the right, causing the car to turn onto a two-lane road into oncoming traffic.
DICK: You're goin' the wrong way. YOU'RE GOIN' THE WRONG WAY!!!
KIRK: WILL YOU--!!!?
As he's chastising his friend, something catches Kirk's eye. He turns his gaze toward an oncoming garbage truck that's racing towards the Vega; he throws the car to the left, avoiding the rig and slamming through several trash cans as Dick cowers in fear, adoping the brace position while covering his face with his hands. Eventually, the car arrives at its intended destination, Arlington Memorial Hospital; the young pilot slams on his brakes upon reaching the virtually empty visitor's parking lot, making a 180-degree turn before taking a parking spot.
Gaither shuts the car off, and all we hear now is Highway breathing heavily--like as if he's having sex with some fine looking hotel manager yet trembling in fear of the consequences.
”Some men were Baptists, others Catholics, but my old man was a helluva fighter pilot trapped behind the wheel of a '73 Chevy. He and Dick were like brothers while they were in that uniform. They did everything together, from getting drunk and playin' cards to singin' karaoke with the Dallas Debs—code for the sexy ladies that worked in the many hotels throughout town. It was fun for them—especially for my dad, who loved to torture Dick with his maniacal drivin' skill any chance he'd get. Then again, Dick would later admit to me that sometimes he wished the cops would take my old man's driver's license away for the hell of it...”
Grinning from ear to ear, Kirk turns toward his cowering friend.
KIRK: Chewie...we're here.
Dick slows his breathing down for a moment before slightly looking up, not wanting to look his comrade in the eye.
DICK: Skyfall...remind me to NEVER ride in a car with you again.
KIRK: Too bad you're my R.I.O. Jesus I could be like one of them stunt drivers for a cop show—like, say T.J. Hooker.
Highway chuckles.
DICK: Pfffft...more like The Dukes of Hazzard. Someday your kid's gonna get into those damn over-the-top cop shows of you watch every day.
”Boy was Dick ever right. My favorite shows growin' up would eventually be shows like T.J. Hooker and The A-Team, Miami Vice, Magnum P.I., and Knight Rider.
The quiet moment between the two Navy officers is interrupted when Kirk pokes his buddy in the ribs.
KIRK: C'mon man, let's go.
The two men, clad in their classic sailor's uniforms, hop out of the car--which now sports several small, yet noticeable, dings and dents on its front bumper from whenever it slammed through those trash cans--and head into the hospital's main lobby. After going up an elevator and getting off at the fifth floor, Kirk and Dick head towards the room where the former's wife, Linda Pohler, was staying.
Linda, as it turns out, was only a year younger than her husband. She sported long, flowing blonde hair with hazel eyes and a smile that was as pure as gold. In her arms lie a small, healthy baby boy that coos warmly as he looked into the eyes of his mother for the very first time.
”It's hard at first, tryin' to remember my mother all these years yet somethin' was keepin' me from doin' so. My mother Linda was somethin' special—very quiet, kind, and genuinely down-to-earth. She married my old man in the summer of 1978 righout out of high school. Her parents owned and operated a hotel in San Francisco called the “Crown Mariner”--where she was introduced to him.”
The young woman gently hands the newborn child to Kirk, who proudly gazes into his eyes and warmly laughs.
KIRK: Look at this—he's got your dimples.
LINDA POHLER: He's got your eyes...
Dick smiles lovingly, acknowledging the newest member of the world's population as Kirk hands the little one back to Linda.
KIRK: What're we gonna call him anyway?
LINDA: I figured we'd name him after your dad.
Kirk chuckles, mustering a sly grin before shaking his head.
KIRK: Pfffft...Wayne Mathias Gaither?! The kids'll start beatin' the crap outta the l'il tyke once he reaches grade school. Let's name the kid after your dad, a'right. Let's call him John--he'll get the nickname "Jack" someday anyway.
LINDA: Okay then...John it is.
The proud mother nods her head, her soothing voice calming even the most frayed of nerves. The two officers nod their heads, taking their leave to allow for a group of nurses to check on the infant and his mother. Kirk and his friend Dick, two fellow pilots in the U.S. Navy, give the "thumbs up" before leaving--with an aura of reverence for what they perceived as "God's newest creation."
They had witnessed the birth of the boy who would someday grow up to become the man known as "Jack Gaither."
”So I came into the world as a healthy baby boy, and for the most part my parents assumed that I was gonna be raised in an idyllic, all-American setting where dreams can come true an in instant. Naturally, I went along with the flow...”
–----------
I pity you Eternity. Really, I do.
I feel relatively sorry for you, blindly following the orders of a corrupted woman whilst not recognising the situation that lies ahead of you. Surely, there would be a lot of people who would say for certain that, as a former Diamonds champion in your own right, you are extremely gullible and foolish. But then I look into your soul, I see something completely different. I see a fragmented mind, torn apart by the vaguest memories of death and destruction that was caused by a mere electrical fault.
It pains me to see you in such a beleaguered state, without a solitary living soul to care for you and tell you how much you're loved.
How can someone like you carry so many different personalities--from the jovial to the depressed to the outright sinister--and still manage to achieve some slight hinting of personal success? All those fragments of memories live inside your soul--creating your "life force" as Jack says--creating chaos and disharmony within your very essence. All those obsessions with death, doom, and gloom have poisoned your spirit, preventing you from seeing the truth that lies right in front of your pale-skinned visage. You thrive on chaos, striving to somehow release that liberating energy unto your victims and turn them into complete and utter afterthoughts.
Yet if you think you can just walk over me darling, you're sorely mistaken.
So do me a BIG favour: allow me to be your liberator. Allow me to show the entire planet that I can, in fact, help you piece your mind together to form a singular entity that nobody can stop. Yet don't allow yourself to be frazzled even further by the likes of Kathleen Conway or her corrupted headmistress's pet Emma Danielson. Don't let those pieces of your soul to consume your very being until you become nothing but a mere pawn in someone else's game. Let yourself go--BE yourself--and most important of all...for Christ sakes, just go out and have a jolly good time. Then--and only then--will your mind truly be free from internal chaos and strife.
I'm here to help--after all, a good sheriff doesn't just put the corrupt to justice--but rather helps the ones who are in desperate need.
Cheers!
–----------
I pity you Eternity. Really, I do.
I feel relatively sorry for you, blindly following the orders of a corrupted woman whilst not recognising the situation that lies ahead of you. Surely, there would be a lot of people who would say for certain that, as a former Diamonds champion in your own right, you are extremely gullible and foolish. But then I look into your soul, I see something completely different. I see a fragmented mind, torn apart by the vaguest memories of death and destruction that was caused by a mere electrical fault.
It pains me to see you in such a beleaguered state, without a solitary living soul to care for you and tell you how much you're loved.
How can someone like you carry so many different personalities--from the jovial to the depressed to the outright sinister--and still manage to achieve some slight hinting of personal success? All those fragments of memories live inside your soul--creating your "life force" as Jack says--creating chaos and disharmony within your very essence. All those obsessions with death, doom, and gloom have poisoned your spirit, preventing you from seeing the truth that lies right in front of your pale-skinned visage. You thrive on chaos, striving to somehow release that liberating energy unto your victims and turn them into complete and utter afterthoughts.
Yet if you think you can just walk over me darling, you're sorely mistaken.
So do me a BIG favour: allow me to be your liberator. Allow me to show the entire planet that I can, in fact, help you piece your mind together to form a singular entity that nobody can stop. Yet don't allow yourself to be frazzled even further by the likes of Kathleen Conway or her corrupted headmistress's pet Emma Danielson. Don't let those pieces of your soul to consume your very being until you become nothing but a mere pawn in someone else's game. Let yourself go--BE yourself--and most important of all...for Christ sakes, just go out and have a jolly good time. Then--and only then--will your mind truly be free from internal chaos and strife.
I'm here to help--after all, a good sheriff doesn't just put the corrupt to justice--but rather helps the ones who are in desperate need.
Cheers!
–----------
Back in the present day, Jack takes a deep breath as he gazes at the nighttime sky.
JACK: ...at least, that was the idea.
Jack solemnly nods his head, stopping his story right there. Fiona turns toward her fiancee, raising her right brow.
FIONA: You never told me about your mum...can you go any further?
But Jack doesn't say another word. Instead, his hands start shaking, his lips quivering as he tries to close his eyes and muster whatever ounce of memories he can come up with; yet nothing happens. The Irishwoman softy places her left hand on Jack's right arm, soothing him with her gentle, motherly voice.
FIONA: I can tell that you're having a difficult time remembering your mother. It'll be alright. Just...think only happy memories...okie-doke?
As the cat jumps off Jack's lap in search for more mice, the two solemnly embrace in the singular lawn chair. For Fiona, who yearned to understand the things that have made Jack's mind tick over the years, she began to realize that the process of helping her love put his living spirit back together will take time and patience.
Yet she realizes that, for the first time in her life, she's learning to respond to someone in distress--learning to care for them in a time of great need.
{TO BE CONTINUED...}
Well howdy there pardner.