Post by Fiona McFly on Apr 10, 2017 4:27:53 GMT
11 March 2017 - 12:45 PM
Down in the Pleasantville bunker...
...we find Fiona McFly sitting at a small wooden dining table, sighing to herself as she peers her eyes on the uniformed presence of one Kirk Gaither, the father of her fiancee Jack. For years, it was believed that the good Navy captain was dead as a result of the 1990 Persian Gulf crises, but seeing him alive made the Northern Irishwoman feel quite creeped out.
For she felt as if she was truly seeing a ghost appear in front of her very visage.
CAPTAIN KIRK GAITHER: I gotta admit, I never thought I'd get visitors in here, other than Mary Sue of course.
The elder Gaither's voice, featuring that unmistakable twang, was as loud as it had been in all those home movies McFly watched with Jack. Kirk sat down across from Fiona, nodding his head as the latter inquired.
FIONA MCFLY: Mary Sue, the receptionist?
KIRK: My in-law--Linda's younger sister.
FIONA: Linda...oh, your wife and Jack's mum.
Kirk nodded solemnly, but Fiona--perhaps forgetting something in her mind--perked up her left brow.
FIONA: Wait a minute...if you're really *not* an imposter, if you really *are* Jack's father...then play the song.
He chuckled before pulling out a small remote controller; he turned on the bunker's stereo system, which began to play a familiar recurring note...
...yet despite the fact that Joe Cocker's song was the correct music choice, Fiona didn't feel any easier--for she'd known that this exact same tune was played on Regina Kimble's cell phone one night before her school was broken into. But Kirk, perceiving what Fiona was thinking, shot her assumption down before she could even say it.
KIRK I know what you're thinkin'...but I didn't break into Beckham.
Fiona shrugged her shoulders, but she slowly began to feel a little more eased in that Kirk, a decorated Naval officer, would never stoop to breaking into a school.
KIRK: The night before the burglary, I got to thinkin'...it's been almost thirty years since I met Regina Kimble after l'il Jackie's first day of kindergarten. Back in them days, parents were more involved in their children's education, helpin' the teachers with the programs and stuff...and while Linda did most of the heavy liftin' I'd find the time to help out too.
McFly outstretched her arms before settling back into her seat. Deep down in her heart, she wanted to hear Kirk's story, and on this day, she was going to get it.
KIRK: And Kimble? She loved teachin' them kids but, more importantly, she loved the involvement of the parents. I figured...if I gave her a call and played the tune, she'd know exactly who it was--turned out to be all for nothin' 'cuz the Pleasantville phone number isn't listed in the books.
Fiona laughed as Kirk poured himself a mug of black coffee and began to sip it.
KIRK: So on the night of the break-in, Mary Sue and I were doin' a midnight grocery run--so's not to attract attention in case someone DID recognize me--and we saw some bad guys smashin' a window open. So I jumped out, busted 'em in the act, but they ran off before I could catch 'em...then I saw a green bag they left behind. It was startin' to storm really bad, so I took the bag and put it in the car without checkin' what was in it. Then when we got back, I decided to take a look-see...
The captain slowly closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, recounting what he could remember the most about being a happy father, about being involved in his son Jack's education. Fiona couldn't help but smile lovingly, for she was talking to a man who loved his family and country more than anything else in the world...
....including himself.
KIRK: ...a whole flood of memories kept rushin' in my brain--about those times watchin' that l'il boy grow up and get himself a fine, fine education as a proud papa. They were the best times I had in my life, where everything was idyllic and joyful. All I ever wanted to do in life was two things--serve my country, and raise an honest, God-lovin', all-American family. Yet l'il Jackie was just the start...he was destined to be a big, biiiiig brother to a beautiful baby girl.
Fiona gasped, not knowing what to say about this bit of news. She thought that Jack had told her the whole story about his beginnings as a small child, and while her thinking might have been sound given the circumstances, she never imagined Jack being a "big brother" to anyone.
FIONA: You were going to have a daughter? Jack never told me that...
Kirk nodded warmly as he pulled out a small photo of an ultrasound reading that was taken in March of 1988; Fiona gave it a closer look and was amazed to see the unborn child.
KIRK: Here's the deal, Linda had been preggers for some months' time, and we were gonna spring it on Jack for his sixth birthday. Since I had to work some OT on his actual birthday, we were gonna have the party at Showbiz Pizza the night before--Kimble was gonna be there too, to help us celebrate and all. But...
The gentleman's voice trailed off as he tried, with all of his mental strength, not to recall the memories of that fateful day--March 23, 1988--when a drunk driver killed his wife and left Jack, then aged five, in a coma.
But his lips quivered--he could no longer maintain his composure.
KIRK: Everything just...it was shot to shit. I tried all I could--really, I tried--to raise Jack as best as I could, and Kimble? She helped us every step, but deep down...her soul was goin' nuts, knowin' that she'd lost an integral part of her support team, not to mention she always visited Jack in the hospital after school 'til he recovered.
Fiona reached over and gently rubbed Mr. Gaither's arm warmly.
FIONA: I can't imagine the pain and horror you felt that day...how heartbreaking it truly was, for you've had to bury the one you loved, see your son in a comatose state. Yet I can also see that your heart broke for Kimble--she had to endure the loss of one of her supporters, not to mention seeing her student in so much trauma...
Kirk sighed, resolving to try and regain his senses.
KIRK: Yeah...it broke Regi's heart more than anything else. To drown the pain she started drinkin' durin' the summer, every summer for the next few years...'til she got arrested one day for DWI. Plead no-contest but it cost her the teachin' gig...so she wound up exiled to a dusty ol' Texas Hill Country burg in the middle of nowhere--which broke Jack's heart even more since she was, for all intensive purposes, like a second mother to him. That was the summer of 1990--before I was called to go to war.
Fiona slowly and solemnly shook her head, knowing that Kirk's life--not to mention Kimble's and Jack's--had been irrevocably altered as a result of the incident.
But now she focused her attention to the war itself, an event that left her fiancee without his father all these years.
FIONA: The government's official report states that you died in an air battle over the Iraqi-Saudi border in December that year, during the first Persian Gulf War.
The captain gritted his teeth in disillusionment, trying desperately not to recall the horrific experiences he dealt with while in an Iraqi prison camp.
KIRK: What the hell was Uncle Sam gonna do anyway...? Tell an eight-year-old child that his daddy got his plane blown to bits, shunted off-course by a gust of wind on the parachute ride down, and got taken prisoner after landin' on the wrong side of the fence? Ain't somethin' that the Navy and State Department would wanna tell a little boy who lost his mommy to a drunken driver two years prior.
Fiona's mind began to race as she started to perceive the proud man as being torn in two different directions--his love and loyalty to his family and country, and his desire to start life anew and forget about the past. It gave her a resolve to help Kirk free himself from the chains in which he created inside his conscience.
FIONA: Come back with me, get out of this Fortress of Solitude you've created for yourself after all these years. I'm going to marry Jack on his 35th birthday in a few weeks...
Kirk cut Fiona off with a loud, hearty laugh.
KIRK: You're shittin' me, right? You're...gonna marry my boy?
McFly nodded her head, showing off the engagement ring on her left index finger.
KIRK: Welp...and history considers me dead. Who am I to argue with history?
Fiona shot back at Kirk's cynical attitude.
FIONA: You wore the uniform. You have a duty to your country and your family!
KIRK: Don't lecture me, young lady. I was workin' my ass off for Uncle Sam, followin' them principles of duty and honor while you were wearin' diapers. Besides I think Uncle Sam owes me one.
Fiona's face began to change, from a smile to a look of silent contempt.
After what she had heard spew out of the officer's mouth, she thought about losing her mind and smacking the living piss out of her. Fiona hated cynical people more than anything else in the world, and she couldn't stand to hear a once-loving family man just give up on the one thing that guided him the most throughout his life.
His love for his son.
His love for his country.
Yet she still remained calm, speaking to him with an ice-cold, yet commanding, tone.
FIONA: There is a man out there...who's been seeking closure to a dark, dark chapter of his life for many years. There is a woman out there...who is fighting for her very existence on this planet. Would you throw away your undying love for those two human beings, those kindred and loving souls who have influenced your life...'cos of your own cynical, foolish pride?
Kirk sat speechless, sipping on his beverage as Fiona stood up. She--realizing that had the crash not happened, chances are that her own destiny could have been altered in some fashion--WANTED him to ponder that question as she headed towards the elevator door, slowly ready to make her exit out of the bunker.
Yet just as she was about to press the button, he calmly placed his coffee mug on the table and peered towards her...
KIRK: Wait.
...Fiona turned her head slightly, her finger still on the green button. She watched as Kirk cleared his throat before standing up and walking towards her.
KIRK: I...haven't gotten your name.
FIONA: McFly...Fiona McFly.
Mr. Gaither eked out a smirk, yet deep down he began to comprehend the impact of McFly's words.
KIRK: Tell ya what...ya want me to let ya marry my son, ya want me to reunite with Kimble...it's gonna cost ya.
Kirk pointed to the wings on his sailor's uniform, and Fiona couldn't hlep but shake her head, knowing what was about to come next--a flight aboard the vintage Corsair.
Down in the Pleasantville bunker...
...we find Fiona McFly sitting at a small wooden dining table, sighing to herself as she peers her eyes on the uniformed presence of one Kirk Gaither, the father of her fiancee Jack. For years, it was believed that the good Navy captain was dead as a result of the 1990 Persian Gulf crises, but seeing him alive made the Northern Irishwoman feel quite creeped out.
For she felt as if she was truly seeing a ghost appear in front of her very visage.
CAPTAIN KIRK GAITHER: I gotta admit, I never thought I'd get visitors in here, other than Mary Sue of course.
The elder Gaither's voice, featuring that unmistakable twang, was as loud as it had been in all those home movies McFly watched with Jack. Kirk sat down across from Fiona, nodding his head as the latter inquired.
FIONA MCFLY: Mary Sue, the receptionist?
KIRK: My in-law--Linda's younger sister.
FIONA: Linda...oh, your wife and Jack's mum.
Kirk nodded solemnly, but Fiona--perhaps forgetting something in her mind--perked up her left brow.
FIONA: Wait a minute...if you're really *not* an imposter, if you really *are* Jack's father...then play the song.
He chuckled before pulling out a small remote controller; he turned on the bunker's stereo system, which began to play a familiar recurring note...
"What would you do
if I sang out of tune...?"
if I sang out of tune...?"
...yet despite the fact that Joe Cocker's song was the correct music choice, Fiona didn't feel any easier--for she'd known that this exact same tune was played on Regina Kimble's cell phone one night before her school was broken into. But Kirk, perceiving what Fiona was thinking, shot her assumption down before she could even say it.
KIRK I know what you're thinkin'...but I didn't break into Beckham.
Fiona shrugged her shoulders, but she slowly began to feel a little more eased in that Kirk, a decorated Naval officer, would never stoop to breaking into a school.
KIRK: The night before the burglary, I got to thinkin'...it's been almost thirty years since I met Regina Kimble after l'il Jackie's first day of kindergarten. Back in them days, parents were more involved in their children's education, helpin' the teachers with the programs and stuff...and while Linda did most of the heavy liftin' I'd find the time to help out too.
McFly outstretched her arms before settling back into her seat. Deep down in her heart, she wanted to hear Kirk's story, and on this day, she was going to get it.
KIRK: And Kimble? She loved teachin' them kids but, more importantly, she loved the involvement of the parents. I figured...if I gave her a call and played the tune, she'd know exactly who it was--turned out to be all for nothin' 'cuz the Pleasantville phone number isn't listed in the books.
Fiona laughed as Kirk poured himself a mug of black coffee and began to sip it.
KIRK: So on the night of the break-in, Mary Sue and I were doin' a midnight grocery run--so's not to attract attention in case someone DID recognize me--and we saw some bad guys smashin' a window open. So I jumped out, busted 'em in the act, but they ran off before I could catch 'em...then I saw a green bag they left behind. It was startin' to storm really bad, so I took the bag and put it in the car without checkin' what was in it. Then when we got back, I decided to take a look-see...
The captain slowly closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, recounting what he could remember the most about being a happy father, about being involved in his son Jack's education. Fiona couldn't help but smile lovingly, for she was talking to a man who loved his family and country more than anything else in the world...
....including himself.
KIRK: ...a whole flood of memories kept rushin' in my brain--about those times watchin' that l'il boy grow up and get himself a fine, fine education as a proud papa. They were the best times I had in my life, where everything was idyllic and joyful. All I ever wanted to do in life was two things--serve my country, and raise an honest, God-lovin', all-American family. Yet l'il Jackie was just the start...he was destined to be a big, biiiiig brother to a beautiful baby girl.
Fiona gasped, not knowing what to say about this bit of news. She thought that Jack had told her the whole story about his beginnings as a small child, and while her thinking might have been sound given the circumstances, she never imagined Jack being a "big brother" to anyone.
----------
Dear Johnny...
I must admit, I didn't expect Mike Laszlo and Alexis Caffery to sit there and openly challenge us like that, claiming that we're simply "annoying" and all those other naughty things that we hear all the time, especially coming from people who don't take the requisite time to see EXACTLY what we are capable of doing inside a ring--and that's a big "WE"--instead of merely caring for their own individual selves, including their own wallets.
But I accepted the challenge on your behalf not 'cos you went out there and made Dorian Hawkhurst cry "uncle" last week. Far from it lovely...I said "yes" 'cos I see something in you heart that tells me you're more than an honest, God-loving, passionate personality who loves the sport of wrestling more than anything else on the planet. Deep down, within your soul...you choose to remain calm even when the odds are stacked against you, when nobody else thinks you can succeed in acheiving the accolades you've dreamed about your entire life.
And I applaud you, darling, for that trait. I really, really do.
I wish I can say the same thing, that I was mellow deep inside my soul and all that mumbo-jumbo. After all, I only want to prove to the entire Diamonds division that I CAN have the desire to become the torchbearing champion of the Diamonds division...but that's hit the snafu lately. You see...I once thought of Pandora Freeman as an able grappler, a well-respected woman who has somewhat the same outwardly, goofy personality as you do. I could live with the fact that she somehow managed to STEAL a spot in the Iron Maiden--a match I won last year--but what I WON'T live with...was the fact that she thought it would be cute to shove her tongue down my throat.
It made me feel...uncomfortable.
It made me feel...embarrassed.
It made me feel...quite irritated.
And the worst part? It was as if...she'd been corrupted by someone else.
Yet throughout it all, in spite of the fact that I'm NOT in the most pleasant of moods, I CHOOSE to keep my sanity intact. I CHOOSE to keep calm about the whole thing and keep on "truckin'" as the cliche goes. I could be like you JJ, and--even though you DO carry the best of intentions--resort to identity labels to best describe how I feel about our "esteemed" Hall of Famer and her husband...
...but I would be wrong for doing so--dead wrong.
I know you don't like Mr. Laszlo and all that, that he doesn't respect or appreciate us for what we can do inside that ring...but I find it quite illogical--and I say that lovingly--for you to label Ms. Caffery as a "Wonder Woman ripoff." 'Cos I know for a FACT that she's quite gifted at what she does, a well-versed Hall-of-Famer who truly deserved everything she's won. Heck, we're BOTH former Iron Maidens! Yet there are more...subtle ways you can bash the living daylights out of them instead of calling them names.
Get what I'm saying, hunny-pie?
But let's be real here on Mike...you're right on one thing--that he thinks, just 'cos he won titles from nCw to IWF, success is a guarantee in life, much like--metaphorically speaking--President Trump's daily schedule or Russell Westbrook's performances on the basketball floor. It's not--it really isn't. Mr. Trump's going to have plenty of bad days in the Oval Office, where nothing would want to go right for him and, in the most extreme cases, could turn his voters against him or, worse, it could start a regrettable international crisis; likewise, Mr. Westbrook can have one awful night on the floor and could, potentially, cost his Oklahoma City franchise the season when it matters the most. Grappling, as you and I BOTH know, works the same way. Oh, we're gonna have our big moments, you and I, but we're also going to have those days in which we just want to go home and have a cup of tea.
It's how we handle those off-days that makes us who we are.
We just got to take things one step at a time.
Now as for Miss Alexis...I did say that I was going to kick her in the fucking cunt, and she responded by name-calling me a twat, telling me that it isn't "lady like" and blather. But here's the thing...I have a DAMN good reason for wanting to do so, and it's all 'cos her protege, Paige Garcia our "esteemed" Diamonds Champion--decided to make a complete mockery of the title when she couldn't handle a disqualification win two weeks ago--so she gets HERSELF the serving of Dairy Queen. It's bad enough when somebody comes out there and claims that a teacher hasn't taught the student "everything," but it's even WORSE when the one thing Caffery says she knows about is something called "humility."
It's a little something we all take for granted.
Now to be fair JJ, I'm not the expert in being humble and professional in all things, but I DO know one thing--humility can't be taught by anyone. You've got to look deep inside your heart to find it by YOURSELF, and then--only then--will you truly have the skills necessary for growth as a competitor. When you think about it, we can all claim to be good people on the surface, but when we lack that professionalism and honour that's infused within our collective hearts and minds...
...we might as well consider ourselves hypocrites.
So Johnny-lovely...let's go out there and have a little fun, okay? But do stay focused, don't get reckless out there--especially against two people that want to beat us up for no reason save to protect their own standing Pointed words won't hurt them, but our actions will. I'm happy to work with you, from beginning to end, and I promise you...you won't be disappointed with what you'll see out of me.
Trust me...and you'll do great things come Monday.
Cheers!
----------
Dear Johnny...
I must admit, I didn't expect Mike Laszlo and Alexis Caffery to sit there and openly challenge us like that, claiming that we're simply "annoying" and all those other naughty things that we hear all the time, especially coming from people who don't take the requisite time to see EXACTLY what we are capable of doing inside a ring--and that's a big "WE"--instead of merely caring for their own individual selves, including their own wallets.
But I accepted the challenge on your behalf not 'cos you went out there and made Dorian Hawkhurst cry "uncle" last week. Far from it lovely...I said "yes" 'cos I see something in you heart that tells me you're more than an honest, God-loving, passionate personality who loves the sport of wrestling more than anything else on the planet. Deep down, within your soul...you choose to remain calm even when the odds are stacked against you, when nobody else thinks you can succeed in acheiving the accolades you've dreamed about your entire life.
And I applaud you, darling, for that trait. I really, really do.
I wish I can say the same thing, that I was mellow deep inside my soul and all that mumbo-jumbo. After all, I only want to prove to the entire Diamonds division that I CAN have the desire to become the torchbearing champion of the Diamonds division...but that's hit the snafu lately. You see...I once thought of Pandora Freeman as an able grappler, a well-respected woman who has somewhat the same outwardly, goofy personality as you do. I could live with the fact that she somehow managed to STEAL a spot in the Iron Maiden--a match I won last year--but what I WON'T live with...was the fact that she thought it would be cute to shove her tongue down my throat.
It made me feel...uncomfortable.
It made me feel...embarrassed.
It made me feel...quite irritated.
And the worst part? It was as if...she'd been corrupted by someone else.
Yet throughout it all, in spite of the fact that I'm NOT in the most pleasant of moods, I CHOOSE to keep my sanity intact. I CHOOSE to keep calm about the whole thing and keep on "truckin'" as the cliche goes. I could be like you JJ, and--even though you DO carry the best of intentions--resort to identity labels to best describe how I feel about our "esteemed" Hall of Famer and her husband...
...but I would be wrong for doing so--dead wrong.
I know you don't like Mr. Laszlo and all that, that he doesn't respect or appreciate us for what we can do inside that ring...but I find it quite illogical--and I say that lovingly--for you to label Ms. Caffery as a "Wonder Woman ripoff." 'Cos I know for a FACT that she's quite gifted at what she does, a well-versed Hall-of-Famer who truly deserved everything she's won. Heck, we're BOTH former Iron Maidens! Yet there are more...subtle ways you can bash the living daylights out of them instead of calling them names.
Get what I'm saying, hunny-pie?
But let's be real here on Mike...you're right on one thing--that he thinks, just 'cos he won titles from nCw to IWF, success is a guarantee in life, much like--metaphorically speaking--President Trump's daily schedule or Russell Westbrook's performances on the basketball floor. It's not--it really isn't. Mr. Trump's going to have plenty of bad days in the Oval Office, where nothing would want to go right for him and, in the most extreme cases, could turn his voters against him or, worse, it could start a regrettable international crisis; likewise, Mr. Westbrook can have one awful night on the floor and could, potentially, cost his Oklahoma City franchise the season when it matters the most. Grappling, as you and I BOTH know, works the same way. Oh, we're gonna have our big moments, you and I, but we're also going to have those days in which we just want to go home and have a cup of tea.
It's how we handle those off-days that makes us who we are.
We just got to take things one step at a time.
Now as for Miss Alexis...I did say that I was going to kick her in the fucking cunt, and she responded by name-calling me a twat, telling me that it isn't "lady like" and blather. But here's the thing...I have a DAMN good reason for wanting to do so, and it's all 'cos her protege, Paige Garcia our "esteemed" Diamonds Champion--decided to make a complete mockery of the title when she couldn't handle a disqualification win two weeks ago--so she gets HERSELF the serving of Dairy Queen. It's bad enough when somebody comes out there and claims that a teacher hasn't taught the student "everything," but it's even WORSE when the one thing Caffery says she knows about is something called "humility."
It's a little something we all take for granted.
Now to be fair JJ, I'm not the expert in being humble and professional in all things, but I DO know one thing--humility can't be taught by anyone. You've got to look deep inside your heart to find it by YOURSELF, and then--only then--will you truly have the skills necessary for growth as a competitor. When you think about it, we can all claim to be good people on the surface, but when we lack that professionalism and honour that's infused within our collective hearts and minds...
...we might as well consider ourselves hypocrites.
So Johnny-lovely...let's go out there and have a little fun, okay? But do stay focused, don't get reckless out there--especially against two people that want to beat us up for no reason save to protect their own standing Pointed words won't hurt them, but our actions will. I'm happy to work with you, from beginning to end, and I promise you...you won't be disappointed with what you'll see out of me.
Trust me...and you'll do great things come Monday.
Cheers!
----------
FIONA: You were going to have a daughter? Jack never told me that...
Kirk nodded warmly as he pulled out a small photo of an ultrasound reading that was taken in March of 1988; Fiona gave it a closer look and was amazed to see the unborn child.
KIRK: Here's the deal, Linda had been preggers for some months' time, and we were gonna spring it on Jack for his sixth birthday. Since I had to work some OT on his actual birthday, we were gonna have the party at Showbiz Pizza the night before--Kimble was gonna be there too, to help us celebrate and all. But...
The gentleman's voice trailed off as he tried, with all of his mental strength, not to recall the memories of that fateful day--March 23, 1988--when a drunk driver killed his wife and left Jack, then aged five, in a coma.
But his lips quivered--he could no longer maintain his composure.
KIRK: Everything just...it was shot to shit. I tried all I could--really, I tried--to raise Jack as best as I could, and Kimble? She helped us every step, but deep down...her soul was goin' nuts, knowin' that she'd lost an integral part of her support team, not to mention she always visited Jack in the hospital after school 'til he recovered.
Fiona reached over and gently rubbed Mr. Gaither's arm warmly.
FIONA: I can't imagine the pain and horror you felt that day...how heartbreaking it truly was, for you've had to bury the one you loved, see your son in a comatose state. Yet I can also see that your heart broke for Kimble--she had to endure the loss of one of her supporters, not to mention seeing her student in so much trauma...
Kirk sighed, resolving to try and regain his senses.
KIRK: Yeah...it broke Regi's heart more than anything else. To drown the pain she started drinkin' durin' the summer, every summer for the next few years...'til she got arrested one day for DWI. Plead no-contest but it cost her the teachin' gig...so she wound up exiled to a dusty ol' Texas Hill Country burg in the middle of nowhere--which broke Jack's heart even more since she was, for all intensive purposes, like a second mother to him. That was the summer of 1990--before I was called to go to war.
Fiona slowly and solemnly shook her head, knowing that Kirk's life--not to mention Kimble's and Jack's--had been irrevocably altered as a result of the incident.
But now she focused her attention to the war itself, an event that left her fiancee without his father all these years.
FIONA: The government's official report states that you died in an air battle over the Iraqi-Saudi border in December that year, during the first Persian Gulf War.
The captain gritted his teeth in disillusionment, trying desperately not to recall the horrific experiences he dealt with while in an Iraqi prison camp.
KIRK: What the hell was Uncle Sam gonna do anyway...? Tell an eight-year-old child that his daddy got his plane blown to bits, shunted off-course by a gust of wind on the parachute ride down, and got taken prisoner after landin' on the wrong side of the fence? Ain't somethin' that the Navy and State Department would wanna tell a little boy who lost his mommy to a drunken driver two years prior.
Fiona's mind began to race as she started to perceive the proud man as being torn in two different directions--his love and loyalty to his family and country, and his desire to start life anew and forget about the past. It gave her a resolve to help Kirk free himself from the chains in which he created inside his conscience.
FIONA: Come back with me, get out of this Fortress of Solitude you've created for yourself after all these years. I'm going to marry Jack on his 35th birthday in a few weeks...
Kirk cut Fiona off with a loud, hearty laugh.
KIRK: You're shittin' me, right? You're...gonna marry my boy?
McFly nodded her head, showing off the engagement ring on her left index finger.
KIRK: Welp...and history considers me dead. Who am I to argue with history?
Fiona shot back at Kirk's cynical attitude.
FIONA: You wore the uniform. You have a duty to your country and your family!
KIRK: Don't lecture me, young lady. I was workin' my ass off for Uncle Sam, followin' them principles of duty and honor while you were wearin' diapers. Besides I think Uncle Sam owes me one.
Fiona's face began to change, from a smile to a look of silent contempt.
After what she had heard spew out of the officer's mouth, she thought about losing her mind and smacking the living piss out of her. Fiona hated cynical people more than anything else in the world, and she couldn't stand to hear a once-loving family man just give up on the one thing that guided him the most throughout his life.
His love for his son.
His love for his country.
Yet she still remained calm, speaking to him with an ice-cold, yet commanding, tone.
FIONA: There is a man out there...who's been seeking closure to a dark, dark chapter of his life for many years. There is a woman out there...who is fighting for her very existence on this planet. Would you throw away your undying love for those two human beings, those kindred and loving souls who have influenced your life...'cos of your own cynical, foolish pride?
Kirk sat speechless, sipping on his beverage as Fiona stood up. She--realizing that had the crash not happened, chances are that her own destiny could have been altered in some fashion--WANTED him to ponder that question as she headed towards the elevator door, slowly ready to make her exit out of the bunker.
Yet just as she was about to press the button, he calmly placed his coffee mug on the table and peered towards her...
KIRK: Wait.
...Fiona turned her head slightly, her finger still on the green button. She watched as Kirk cleared his throat before standing up and walking towards her.
KIRK: I...haven't gotten your name.
FIONA: McFly...Fiona McFly.
Mr. Gaither eked out a smirk, yet deep down he began to comprehend the impact of McFly's words.
KIRK: Tell ya what...ya want me to let ya marry my son, ya want me to reunite with Kimble...it's gonna cost ya.
Kirk pointed to the wings on his sailor's uniform, and Fiona couldn't hlep but shake her head, knowing what was about to come next--a flight aboard the vintage Corsair.
"Oh, I've got a bad feeling about this..."
~TO BE CONTINUED~
Well howdy there pardner.