(Title Wave) We always hurt (X WOLF)
Jan 3, 2021 10:56:14 GMT -5
Roger Wright, ☠ VooDoo ☠, and 5 more like this
Post by somethingwicked on Jan 3, 2021 10:56:14 GMT -5
Alan Watts, author of ‘The Book’, once said “The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” Xavier Wolf had read that book, this quote had not come from it, he had googled quotes one time and it remained with him. Father not your father? Roll with it. Family you never heard of happens to contain your professional hero? Dive In. The guy you pegged(not that way) for being your biggest and best rival throws in with a stable that has been a thorn in your family's side forever? Celebrate it. Federal Agent has you picked up in the middle of the night on some charges they’ve yet to reveal? Dance, mother fucker, Dance.
Xavier had spent most of the morning dancing to the tune that one Agent Rancor had decided to play. He was a quasi tubby, scraggly, but once good looking shell of a man who had been a thorn, or more appropriately, THE thorn in his side for years. The years, as well as Xavier, had not been kind to Agent Rancor. Despite himself Rancor had gotten close a number of times, in a number of ways, to catching X with red hands only for him to slip through his fingers like sand or rice or Joe Montouri’s tiny penis. Including, but not limited to;
The shipment: A cargo container chained to a flatbed truck, filled to the brim with the life’s work of Patricia Fairfax. The short and well built blonde who had starred in over 150 movies in the five years she was in the business. Of course, she was 15 at the time, and the tapes were now a death sentence to whoever happened to be in possession of them. Johnny had purchased it, having no idea what was in it. Xavier had realized and gotten it out of his hands, hiding it someplace no one was going to go looking.
The Trade: Rebecca Atta was a promising young woman who one day started an onlyfans in the hopes of making a few dollars and maybe buying herself a nice sports car. What happened is that one night, a woman who shall remain nameless who worked for Johnny caught a glimpse of her and began to try to convert her from a one man show to a full production. And while successful, the fact that Rebecca was the niece of some very powerful people, was something that went unnoticed. Agent Rancor was tasked with extracting her from that life. Xavier was the reason she stayed.
The Merger: Xavier had been tasked by Johnny to pull in all of these smaller clubs all over the country and help them earn in their property while protecting Johnny’s investment. Johnny’s then partner had wanted to simply kill them all, but that kind of body count brings more pressure than it’s worth. But employees whose pockets you fill, take that kind of pressure away.
Xavier smiled. It was true. The piece of shit had gone through a lot of trouble to try and nab him for a very long time, with zero favorable results. These include but are not limited to:
The Zoom debacle. Aldo Diamond, Xavier’s right hand in all things Jackyl, the club that umbrellas all of the smaller clubs that they’d incorporated, had set a meeting that Agent assface had gotten word about. Gearing up for what was the biggest raid in the department’s history, they stormed a bar in New Jersey called The Zoom club. Ironically, Agent Ranchor had never heard of the website, where the actual meeting took place.
The Boat. Xavier and Johnny had bought a very large yacht and had anchored it off the coast of South Carolina. Word got out that they were using this as a floating headquarters for their drug trade, which honestly was mostly non-existent. Ranchor and his crew had boarded the boat one day to find that while it contained zero drugs, and people, it was wired to explode. Fleeing the boat safely, they watched as it sunk to the bottom taking any proof they might have gotten. Only to find out later that both Xavier had obtained, legally, the right to sink the boat as an artificial coral for the area. Ranchor has since argued that not only did they use the boat as a place to process drugs, that they then sunk to get rid of proof. But they also had gotten a sizable tax write off to do so. He was 100% correct.
The Tower. Ranchor once again got wind of a project The Jackylz had going. An apartment tower in east LA was heard to be operating as an all inclusive whore house where high end clients could have sex with porn stars for a price. Ranchor again rallied his troops to find that what he was told was a massive whore house was actually the world's most advanced VR playground. One could easily have sex with their favorite porn star through first person filming, but that didn’t make the place a whore house any more than the Star Wars experience made it a galaxy far far away.
Ranchor, like OPW’s Stephen Stratford, had come close to being victorious so many times. Had the win at his fingertips, but never in the palm of his hands. Unlike Stratford, Xavier had no intention of fostering his growth, or holding his hand. Stratford showed promise. Stratford was elite. Ranchor was a glorified mall cop. And he’d only been in his shitty little holding tank long enough to need a shower. Lawyers(plural) and good ones at that are expensive. But like cars and prostitutes, you get what you pay for. It takes a certain type to not give a shit about jail time and concentrate on your career. Xavier was precisely that type.
It was not the best kept secret that the victory X had at PPV was not the strongest. Had things been different, had Stratford fallen this way rather than that, Stratford would be the Immortalized one. But grip isn’t luck and strength isn’t random. So the idea that X had not earned his win was bullshit. And even those who said otherwise most likely knew otherwise. They just wanted something to say. Xavier had withstood everyone of the biggest names this place had and had come out of it all smelling like roses. The notion that he did so only through luck, was as preposterous as it was hateful. Luck is what the lazy call work ethic.
Granted the match they’d had previously was full of distractions. Not just people. But the pods. The ladder. These weren’t based on skill, they were luck based. More timing than training. Stratford would need to beat Xavier to cement the fact that it was nothing more than a twist of fate. Xavier needed to beat Stratford to show that it was more like destiny. He had intended to soften him a bit during their tag team match, but as luck would have it the wives had put on a fucking barn burner that didn’t include them until the time ran out as both finally got off the apron.
His morning now over, and his afternoon full of conversations about what was to happen, what did happen, and a bunch of other shit that would tear him away from so much other shit that he had to do. Things in his personal life had gotten slick as of late. He wanted to think it was his own fault. That he had pushed Stratford too far. Truth is he hadn’t pushed him far enough. Stratford saw his endeavor as some sort of strategy against him, rather than for him. It was something he knew was possible but bet against. He bet wrong.
Stratford was obsessed with Riggs. Like a dog that was trapped in a yard every day watching the mailman that went by with his chewable calves exposed. Stratford wanted to destroy Riggs but didn’t have the chance. Or the ability. Or maybe both. Xavier knew that Stratford was one of the only people in this business that could take this belt from him, Anicka being the other. But he couldn’t have Stratford facing him and thinking of someone else. You fantasize about Xavier, not when you’re with Xavier.
He made it clear for Stephen. You can fight me for a world title, or you can fight Damon for nothing. It was a choice any sane man would make in the blink of an eye that the absolutely frayed Stephen couldn’t make in a month. He understood the obsession. He had come back to this business looking for a fight. Begging for one. Thirstier than every simp who typed #bodypositive into the search bar of social media. And he was denied it wherever he looked. Except for Stephen. Stephen Stratford had gone down a different road, with the same load, and had results somewhat similar. Except Stratford had never been a world champion. And that made him hungry.
Stratford had vanished from this business, like he did, after things got too real too quick. He took his time and honed himself, and when he came back, he was different but better. He was more laser focused(forgive the pun), and less erratic. That is until Damon showed up. He couldn’t blame him, not really, for his obsession. To see someone who had done something to you, something you hated them for despite a level of respect, was something Xavier understood. The constant want to correct what had occurred, to change what they’d done to suit how you wanted it to be. That kind of obsession wasn’t foreign to Xavier. Because Stephen Stratford was his.
In all of his life Xavier has sought out someone who could knock him down. In football, there was barely anyone who could slow him, let alone stop him. In life, in this business, it had been the same. Xavier got what Xavier wanted, and very rarely with any contest from others. And then Stephen Stratford.
Stephen had touched his OPW Immortal Championship belt at the same time. Only Xavier came up with it. Stratford had just as much of an opportunity to fall from that ladder with the belt in his hand as Xavier did. But Xavier came up with it. Stratford who had been torn by his want for the title, and his want for revenge, who had come into that match with his mind severed by the want for revenge and the need for victory, or vice versa. Xavier did not know which was stronger, or which guided him. He did know this; It was not going this way again.
Stratford, king of focus, was going to be single minded this time. He wanted to win a title. And the only one worth winning it from was Xavier. Xavier who had struggled from the bottom, and climbed the grime covered ladder that was a success in this business. Xavier who had only gotten up one more time than he fell. Xavier who when faced with loss, sought out the reasons rather than excuses. Xavier who didn’t blame. He learned. Grew. Rolled with and dived in.
But now it was time to dive into something else entirely. Stratford had taken a page out of Xavier’s book, and decided that being a pawn in the chess game Xavier had going was not suitable. He needed to be an active participant. Stratford had gotten himself a private detective and gathered a lot of info on Xavier, as well as Vincent. The ramifications of which were sweeping across his family. While this detective, who Xavier was either going to hire or have killed uncovered a lot of information, the most blatant thing he had unearthed was the biggest lie that Xavier had ever told, and the fact that Vincent Black had told it with him.
It was 6 years earlier. The five of them had gotten together for the annual finance meeting. The Collective, the bank account they all contributed to and withdrew from was to be reviewed and discussed. Someone, Xavier could not recall who had made fun of her choice in men. This was before the little irish guy got out of prison, and finished what he’d started. Sarah often laughed these judgements away, but this time. She cried. And not just a few tears. The ugly kind. Where tears come and facial expressions are hard and reddened but no sounds are produced. When she calmed down and explained, Xavier knew that someone was going to die for this. He just had to figure out how. She had begged the older brothers not to do anything, that she had handled it. She told the little brothers that they weren’t to do anything. They meant to listen. While Kal was everyone’s alpha, she was theirs. And there wasn’t a thing they wouldn’t do, or not to do if she asked.
Xavier prepared himself during the helicopter ride back to Parts Unknown for the spiel that was going to come his way. He also knew that he owed an apology to no one, about anything. This was what Stratford wanted. Xavier had done his best to clear Stratford of any and all distractions. Stratford had gone through hell to make some for Xavier. It was a bold strategy, cotton. And it wasn’t going to pay off for him. The chopper touched down onto Kal’s private pad, which was located closer to the center of the compound. He obviously wanted Xavier in front of him sooner than later. Before it could settle on its skids, the chopper door opened and one of the staff asked Xavier to exit. She then handed the pilot a card and pulled on Xavier’s elbow to get him away from the chopper. The second they were at minimal safe distance, the bird was back into the air and headed into the direction they’d just come from. Spatz and Nez were both waiting for Xavier by a nearby Audi. They had sent a real car. Not a golf cart. This was more serious than he thought, or they wanted him to believe it was. He laughed it off. It was to be the last one for a while.
Nez explained as Spatz drove what had happened. Whatever was in that folder had not just been given to him. It had found its way into the hands of an FBI agent. That agent had passed it around and in the early hours of the morning, almost every member of the family had been snatched by black ties. Vincent had been grabbed on his way back from Bent Fork. Sarah from her apartment in NY. Murphy who had been with her was left in NYC, while she was taken somewhere else. Kal had not been picked up due to the fact that he was currently undergoing cancer treatments at the time where most of this had taken place. And Jack was not picked up because leaving him out of things was usually a smart move in any instance where the law was involved.
Nez explained that they were holding everyone in different places. Xavier was the first to be released. Vincent was on his way back now, and the helicopter was being sent to get Candice,and then Murphy on the way back. Xavier tried to connect the dots but a lot of it was dotless. He understood getting Sarah, she was directly involved. Vin was in the smallest of ways, but Candice? It just didn’t add up. Stratford had set out to distract Xavier, to weaken him with worry and concern. Truth be told if he was who Stratford thought he was, it would’ve worked. If he was looking to motivate Xavier to tear him apart bit by god damn bit. Well that worked wonderfully.
Nez opened the door for X and broke him out of his meditation like state. He looked at her and she seemed off. Pale. Worried. Not herself at all. It could be the situation but she doesn’t give a fuck about most of these people. She doesn’t even know them. It was something else. Something personal.
“You ok, Liqs?” Xavier used that nickname only when he wanted to make her smile. It was a crude play on the Liquor License joke every lesbian makes. She always smiled at it. Or mostly always, as she wasn’t smiling now. Not even close.
“We’ll talk later. You got more pressing matters.” Nez winked to let him know she’d keep. He was her best friend, he knew that. He also knew that if it was that serious, she’d have told him already. And like she said, shit was pressing.
Xavier entered what was known as the command center. Truth be told it was just a small building with several rooms that had been designed for something, but no one could remember what. So it became an info hub. The room in the middle was set up with food of different sorts, littered with bottles of water, and a few pitchers of orange juice that the only thing fresher was the holes in the wall. The room was not joyous to say the least. It was a funeral vibe if any at all.
Kal sat in the back of the room, a costco sized container of Pepcid on one side and a large glass of water on the other. His cellphone pressed against his ear, he looked at Xavier and mouthed the words ‘sit down’ as he listened to the caller. Xavier nodded and poured himself a glass of orange juice. There was no pulp. He never understood people that liked pulp. Or why there was so much of it. Orange Juice companies went too hard on the pulp thing. It was like eating an orange in a cup. He had been told that they sold orange juices with different levels of pulp, like how oils have different grades. Who were these people that had specific pulp needs? By the time he asked this of himself, he noticed his brother was staring at him, waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry Bigs, Lost in thought. You say something?”
“I did.” Kal said, tired and manic. His eyes were heavy. Xavier had been taken in around 7 am. Judging by the look on Kal’s face, someone was taken way earlier. “What did they ask you?”
“I didn’t tell them anything, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Xavier found the idea insulting. He was better at keeping his mouth shut than the rest of the family. In regards to authorities only, of course.
“Stop. That’s not what I’m asking. I am asking what they asked you.” Kal popped another pepsid into his mouth and held his chest with a clenched fist. “For the life of us, no one can find out what this is about. No charges have been filed, but everyone of us ‘cept me and Jack has been brought in.”
“They never asked me anything. They just held me there and then let me go. I assumed it was a time waster. I didn’t even know anyone else got picked up until I got here.”
“Alright. You see any familiar faces? Anyone at all?”
“Just this piece of shit who’s been tracking me. You talk to Johnny?”
“Yeah he’s fine. Call when you can. You don’t have to hang here, I’ll get you when we know anything.”
“Alright. When Vin shows up, let me know.” Xavier knew Kal was up to speed on what they’d done, and fully expected a speech. A speech that it would seem, wasn’t coming.
“X..” Kal called, just as he was about to exit. Xavier looked back and Kal nodded. “It was a beautiful ceremony. I’m sorry it led to this.”
“Price we pay, right?”
Kal was about to respond when his cell phone vibrates violently, almost ‘yeeting’ itself off the desk, as the kids might say. A silent nod toward the door and Kal went back to damage control. Xavier wanted to stick around and see what developed, and what he could do. Jack was pacing in the background, Angie was screaming in italian somewhere. This was covered. His match with Stratford, who had either accidentally or deliberately set this in motion, was not. Xavier gritted his teeth against each other and got moving, motivated to make sure it was. His determination carried him out of the room and the building and then his cellphone interrupted it, and shattered it with a single phone call.
There was no contact information, no name, not even one of those ‘might be’ contact infos. But the zip code was from San Diego. He had friends all over the world, every country you know about and some you don’t. There was a tribe of people who had not made contact with the outside world in the entirety of their lives, and yet they knew Xavier on a first name basis. Or so people joked. But this number calling from that area, could only be him. And that meant while it sent an influx of pain to his head, the call went right to voicemail.
It was two hours before he was disturbed in the gym. His knuckles sore and red from the punching bag and his palms read and sore from the weights. His feet were sitting in pools of sweat from the cardio and his hips were loose but sore from everything. When he heard the door open and the introduction of outside noise, Xavier expected one of the Big’s assistants. What he got was an angel.
“Zavi, what happened?” Le’ said in a pair of jeans and a sweater that told him all he needed to know. Wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she had stopped it the second she heard he was picked up, and came running. She smelt like heaven and looked like whatever is better. She felt indescribable. “Was it the tubby prick who smells of mothballs? Did they charge you?”
“No. They kept me in a room for a while and then let me go. I came back here, and I’ve been working since. You know if Vin or Sarah got back yet?”
“There was a helicopter taking off just as I was coming in, I don’t know who was on it. Is your phone ringing?”
It was. It had been non-stop. The first 3 times he checked the number and saw it was the same San Diego number. Kal would send someone to fetch him, knowing he wouldn’t be on his phone.
“Yeah. Someone from San Diego.”
“Oh.” Le’andra didn’t mince words, or hide her feelings. But when it came to him she didn’t want to even give him the honor of being spoken about. He deserved silence in all aspects of life. To die without his name being uttered, even in disgust. Should he die, let it be forgotten with the lunch of ten years prior.
“I got too much shit on my plate for his games. To drop this shit before my wedding. To ruin the days after.. Stratford really went all in on this.”
“I hope I won't insult the other love of your life by saying this, but he’s got a mouth full of elk blood and he’s trying to sip the mead.” She meant Stratford. The amount of time and energy I’d put into him was not healthy to say the least.
“That..” Xavier chuckled. The things she said sometimes. “That is not a real expression.”
“It is not, but I did miss your smile.” Le’andra flashed a smile of her own, moving Xavier’s hair out of his eyes. “It’s getting long again. Not going Nomad are you?”
“If I do, Not alone.” The kiss had just begun to start when it stopped abruptly. They’d been married again just a few days prior, and it seemed as if they didn’t have to wait for their love to be tested. The phone was ringing again, and this time, Xavier had enough. Storming over to it, he was about to chuck it to the floor and stomp it, until he saw the screen. This time it did have call information. This time it was Sarah. He bit the MMA style gloves off his hands and picked it up, hitting the green button before he took his next breath.
“Bats? Bats?”
“Hello, Xavier.” spoke Thomas Marke, Xavier’s quasi-father. Quasi’ as in the man who had paid for the people who really raised him, and father as in wasn’t actually his father.
The heat that had been generated from his work out was sapped from his body upon hearing the voice. That voice that had eyebrows just as bushy as the face that generated it. Xavier looked to his wife as his body temperature sank faster than the titanic if it had been made of marble. His father was many things, all of them terrible. Perhaps he was about to discover the worst of all.
“How did you get this phone, Dad?” Xavier looked at Le’ and before he could mouth the words, she grabbed her phone and called Kal, whispering the importance of him being there as soon as possible.
“Long story. But let me give you the cliffnotes. You stuck that whore at my table, when I wanted you. I threw a party for that whore because she’s not without use, in the hopes of seeing you, and you send that piece of shit and that clown to ruin my home, my party. To make sick my friends. I wanted you back as my son. But you are only content by the act of being my enemy. Well, This is what it is like to be my enemy, Xavier. Tell me if you like it.”
“So it was you. You did this.”
“You’re not getting it, Xavier. A friend of yours decided to hire a private eye. A private eye that I have used many times. He’s a smart guy, regular wop genius. He comes to me and says ‘I’ll let you approve what I find.’ I told him no need. Just supply me with a copy. I expected some misdeeds, Xavier. But murder?”
“I haven’t killed anyone.”
“I am sure you haven’t. I am sure you’re the same good boy you’ve always been. Which is why I am doing you a favor. Security blankets are actually pitfalls. You remember that?”
“I was 6. Of course I remember it.” It was a batman blanket. He’d had it since he was a bay. Thomas Marke felt that was long enough. So in an effort to show him that you can be rid of things and they can still be useful, he told him that while this blanket was once warm, and comforting. It was now scrap. And threw it into a fire.
“I was warm and comforted that night. I recall you being slightly emotional.”
“I was 6 you fucking asshole. Why do you have my sister's phone?”
“Yes. And now you’re a man. And I am sure when faced with difficult decisions you are capable of making them without a second thought. So let me explain how this works. You are going to come home. You are going to change your name back to Marke, and when you have kids, which you will have, you will continue the bloodline, my bloodline. Do that for me, and your sister will be let go.”
“Wait..what?” Kal and Jack rush into the room, Candice and Vincent right behind them with Nez and Spatz right behind them. Xavier hushes them all, and avoids eye contact with each. He looks into the space between the wall and the floor and he burns a hole into it with his intensity.
“From what I can gather, while you were out playing transient, your brother was using his newly bought private helicopter company to taxi him back and forth to you. I get you two are close, disgustingly so, and I assume he was doing this to help you, maybe fund you, I can’t say. It’s not about what I can say, it’s about what I can prove. I can prove that there were monthly trips from your gated community to the region this murder occured.A region you were zig zagging over during the time it happened. I can prove that within a week of the murder, you left that area. I can also prove that maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was your dear sweet sister. The same sweet sister who carved her name into that dead man’s chest. Oddly enough it was very clear, despite the body being burnt. Which is why I’ve been very persuasive to a few friends of mine that your sister should by all means be charged with Murder. First degree, of course.”
“...why?”
“Because she’s your security blanket and I detest security blankets. You are my son, and you are destined for greatness. You need to be alleviated of certain hang ups but that's what a father’s job is. To right the ship. Let me save you, and I’ll let you save her. Call me back when you’ve made your decision. I can wait as long as you need. I can’t speak for Sarah.”
The phone went dead and everything in Xavier’s body told him to hit anything he could, as hard as he could. But he was trained to be better than that. To bury that feeling and to extract himself from it. So he did. He removed himself from the issue and began to look at it differently, while everyone looked at him expectantly.
“He said that Sarah’s getting charged with murder. That he’ll get the charges dropped if I do what he asks. And I’m going to.”
Spatz raised his hand, forgetting that he was at the back of the group and no one could actually see him, so he spoke up. “What’s he asking for?”
“Who gives a fuck!?” Vin blurted out, angry at everything and everyone. “This is Sarah’s life!”
“I already said I’m doing it. But he said other shit. Shit that makes me think he’s got plans for us.”
“Like?” Kal piped in. Calmer than anyone thought he could be.
“Stratford, That piece of shit. I tried to free him. I tried to show him that there was a world that mattered, and that he could exist in it. That I could cut the goddamn ties to his bullshit headspace and help him make it to where he wanted to be. I believed in that piece of shit and this is what he does? Is he so fucking broken, so miserable, that he can’t see I was trying to help!? He wants misery, it’s obvious. He can’t fucking live without it. He can’t breath unless it’s labored by his own fucking misery. He doesn’t just want it, he hunts for it. Digs for it. Dives into it whenever he fucking can as if there was no other way of being. And I believed in him.”
“Xavier. Fo-...Concentrate.” Le’ spoke, her hand on his chest.
“I’m sorry. He mentioned Vin funding me. I don’t waste words and he’s the one who taught me that. He’s got something on us financially. I don’t know what but he’s dying to use it.”
“...rico.” Spatz said, gaining attention once more.
“Jesus, he’s right.” Kal said. “Rico. He could get us all.”
“All?”
“Follow my logic; Sarah goes down for murder, a murder that Xavier and Vin helped her either by locating or getting rid of the evidence. They can argue that we all knew, and with Thomas’ reach, he could make all sorts of lies believable. All he would need was a way to connect us all. And he’s got it.”The collective.” Kal was looking at everyone, and they were not looking at him, but looking off into their respective distances. “We all put into that. It’s all he needs.”
“Shut up. He’s not gonna do any of that because Xavier is gonna give in to his demands and get Sarah out. Now call him back.” Vin demanded. Kal had spent most of his life trying to keep Sarah safe, and as far as Vin saw it, it was Xavier’s turn.
Xavier picked up the phone and called back his sister's phone, staring at the photo of her that came up. It was from their ski trip 7 years ago. The two of them had bought the ugliest outfits they could find and went out and purposely did bad on the bunny slopes for what Sarah called ‘Shis ‘n gigs’. They actually spent most of the day sitting on a rock in the middle of a trail, judging people as they sped by, splitting a flask of gin. He always smiled when he thought of that trip. Even at times like this. When the call was answered, he quickly switched to speaker so as to let everyone else in on the conversation. Thomas would know by the sound, but he’d appreciate an audience. He always did.
“Made your decision?” Thomas said content with himself.
“You know I have.”
“Well there are a few caveats to be discussed first.”
The fine print, just what every father/son relationship needs. He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs were as defeated as his mind. Hoping for a good deep breath, he settled for a gasp. “Go on.”
“One, you change your name back right away. Tomorrow in fact. I’ll set it all up.”
“Two.”
“You are to lose or return, however you choose, that title you covet so much. It is beneath you, Xavier. That entire sport is beneath you.”
“That it?”
“You are also going to divorce that euro-trash, and you’re to marry someone of stature where it matters. She is also beneath you.”
Kal appears out of nowhere, snatches the phone from Xavier’s hand and holds it close to his face, his mouth a snarl with spit almost spilling out of his mouth. The rest of them, Xavier included, does his best to try and stop Kal, but it’s far past too late.
“You know what’s fucking beneath him..You, You fucking cunt. You piece of fucking shit. You think i’d fucking let you do this to him? You fucking want a war you cocksucker, you’re gonna get a fucking war like ain’t never been fucking had. Maybe I fucking murdered that piece of shit, and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life in jail before I let you fuck with this family. But before I do, I will gut you like the fucking fish you is.”
“Oddly enough, I don’t think that confession is going to hold water. Please, Kalvin. Give me some credit. Did you get my present by-”
The last thing Thomas Marke said was not distinguishable for him, but for everyone else in the room it was the sound of glass breaking and plastic snapping as Kal closed his vice of a fist and crushed the phone in his hand. Blood poured out immediately, running ragged routes down his wrist and forearm.
“I will not let this piece of fucking shit ruin your life. She didn’t fucking kill this guy, we’ll get her off. We don’t need to fuckin’ sell you out for it.”
“Kal...It’s Sarah.” Vin said, exasperated by the turn of events and the illogical turn things had taken. “It’s Sa-”
“I KNOW IT’S FUCKING SARAH. NOW. THIS TIME. NEXT TIME MAYBE IT’S ME.OR IT’S YOU. OR FUCKING CANDICE. OR DAMON. OR THE FUCKING KIDS. I CAN’T MAKE THAT CHOICE AND I’LL BE FUCKED BEFORE I LET ANY OF YOU.”
Xavier wanted to listen to the spiel. Wanted to hear about how his older brother loved his siblings so much that he could not stand to pick one over the other. He had always wanted that kind of relationship with him. Now he had it, and was dying to give it away. Le’andra stared at her husband while she tended to Kal’s wound. He was angry but looked at her with a softness in his rage. She felt in that moment that it was not just for Xavier that Kal was angry. But for her as well.
“Stratford did this. Stratford put his fucking nose into our ass, took a sniff, and caused all of this.” Kal said, a wince in his voice as a particular large shard of phone was plucked from his hand.
“I d-”
“If that sentence ends with defending him, I’ll fuck you up myself.” Xavier quickly spat out, pointing to his brother. “Whatever he thought, he’s played with our lives for the first and last time.”
“Not the first.” Vincent said, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “At the last show. There was a folder left in my locker room. Had a green post it note on it. Said ‘you should know, SS.’ I thought it was a fake. Thought X was getting back at me for the bread thing. Having seen the folder we all got, I see that it wasn’t.”
“What did yours say?” Kal asked, staring into his brothers face trying to locate some hint or tell of what he knew. Kal was very good at reading people. It’s why he knew the list Thomas was making was never going to stop. He didn’t care about Xavier. He simply wanted to rip all he had from his grasp. Kal wasn’t going to let that happen, just as Vin wasn’t going to tell anyone what his personal folder had said.
“This isn’t the time. I don’t think he meant to hurt us though. I think he misstepped. If he was out to hurt us, he wouldn’t have given me that folder. That’s all I can say about it right now.”
“Fuck off, Batman.” Kal said, watching as Le’ picked pieces of glass and bits of plastics from his palm. “Get the fucking lawyers. Get them up to snuff. This fucking drippy cunt wants a war, let’s fucking give it to him. We spend every fucking dime, every fucking dime, to get her bail. AND WHY IS SHE TENDING TO MY FUCKING HAND, AREN’T YOU A DOCTOR NOW?” Jack snapped out of his daze and rushed to Kal, helping Le’ clear the wound of debris.
“Kal..” Xavier wanted another chance to appeal. To explain that it wouldn’t be so bad. He could still be with Le’, he’d just have to marry someone else. Someone his father approved of. For Sarah, he would. For Xavier, Kal did not give the chance.
“You got work to do. If there is anything left of that fucking piece of shit, a fucking sliver, I’m gonna take an equal size fuckin’ piece outta you. Got it?”
“Yes.” Xavier picked up his glove, and went back to work, as the rest of the group walked out. Le’ still tending to Kal, and Spatz and Nez leaving to give him space. Xavier tried to concentrate on work. On Stratford. On the Immortality he was at risk of losing. When it occurred to him. What Stratford had said. It had been shrugged off initially but now it rang louder than anything anyone had ever said. It was the hearing version of seeing a light source after you closed your eyes.
“There will be no happy ending.”
The mother fucker. The piece of shit. He planned for this? He wanted him in disarray? Or did he mean to destroy some part of him? He wanted him as distracted as he was the last time? None of it made sense. Stratford wasn’t like this. He had believed that Stratford was a decent man. He had believed that the level of animosity between the two had been at healthy levels. But Stratford had made it clear that it wasn’t. Stratford made it abundantly clear that Xavier was not only his worst enemy, but so was his family. His friends. His happiness. There is an old saying in regards to people who reveal themselves to be something other than what they were perceived. When someone shows you who they really are, Believe them.
Xavier believed.
Xavier believed that Stratford was a miserable cunt who would endanger an entire fucking family for nothing more than a power move. Xavier believed that Stratford not only knew this would be possible, but was preferable. He believed Stratford would try to claim otherwise. That he only wanted to take something from X the way X had tried to take something from him. But he’d muddied the water with the dirt he pulled out of the earth. And that mud had become chum, and his pal was about to find out why you don’t bait something you don’t want to meet when it’s hungry.
Xavier believed that when they fell from the ladder, and Stratford let go, he lost more than just his grip on the title, but his grip on reality. He could not have believed that he would do what he did, uncover what he’d uncovered, and just gotten a laugh or a smile. He had to know that the grip he lost, Xavier was going to return via a hand to his scrawny, impish throat.
The weights could not be heavy enough and the wait could not be long enough. But in the end, Xavier would be stronger, faster, and better. And the weights, like Stratford, would be dropped and put back where they belonged.
Xavier stared at the weights and his altered reflection in the silver bar. It has been almost six years since this all started, and he had done so well at keeping it hidden. And Stephen Stratford blew it all up because he doesn’t know what’s good for him from what he wants.
Xavier had bought a bag of pepperidge farm cookies and was on his way home. He wanted a glass of milk to eat them with, as anyone can tell you, they’re quiet dry without it. Realizing that there was no way he had milk at home, he made the call to stop by Vin’s place, who had to have milk because he had kids. It was logic.
Instead of milk he found Vincent, shoving his clothes into a suitcase with a sense of urgency, and a look he’d not seen on his face in a very long time. A hatred so intense that it took him a good minute to even take notice that his brother was there, and an extra 15 seconds to realize that it was actually his brother. There was a conversation. A plan set in motion. A plan that Stephen Stratford had become aware of. The only reason they weren’t discussing it was because everything else that happened had overshadowed it. And in the middle of realizing the man he believed to be his friend had turned into his nemesis, and that he may never see his sister again, Xavier realized a very important detail that he had not occurred to him before, and would not be leaving him after. Turning to leave, he instead runs face to face with the person he was off to find.
“Xavier…” Vincent said, getting out just a name before his brother jabbed him in the mouth, staggering him.
“You mother fucker. You let me think you were going after that piece of shit. You let me take your place. You were going to find her, weren’t you? You were gonna leave them all 5 years ago.”
“And then you talked me out of it. Honestly, I planned on finding the guy first. Then finding her, and then running for the rest of my life. She’d love that. Making up stories about who we were that day.” Vin smiles, his mouth dripping with a bit of blood.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“You stood in front of me and made me realize how much my family needed me. Was I supposed to ignore that? The effect you wanted, you got. I stayed.”
“....did you say effect or af-”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“We got time for a lot of things, mo.” Xavier grabbed for a bottle of water. A bottle of water he moved hours earlier and was angry at the fact that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. “I could kill this guy.”
“I’m confused. Why is Kal not letting you do this? Is this not the easiest option?”
“Kal knows who Thomas is. He’s not going to honor this deal because he’s not going to make any deal. It’s past that. His demands, he knows damn well I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. He just wants to torture me.”
“We can’t let her rot in jail.” Vincent stared at his brother, seeing the anger building behind his eyes. It was a look that Vincent often carried as his default look. Xavier had learned to hide it, disguise it as boredom, but suffered from the same rage issues that had plagued Vin his entire life. They had shared a womb, made sense that they shared this.
“We won’t.” Xavier considered adding ‘promise’ to that statement and then refrained. Promises in situations like this are often emptied by outside factors you didn’t even know to consider. Things were bad enough without scheduling that kind of frustration for later. Xavier hated saving things for later and that is why he changed the subject as quick as he did “I have to ask you something. I need you to be honest. The night I stopped you from leaving. Were you going to find this guy, or were you going to find her?”
A pause and a breath were taken before Vincent responded with a defeated “Both.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you tell me?” With Vincent it was sometimes necessary to ask the same question multiple times. He only ever gave you the smallest bit of information, and sometimes it would differ.
“You assumed. You didn’t ask. And when you told me that I shouldn’t leave my family, that they needed me. It was true. I had told myself the same thing. Truth of the matter, ashamed as I am to say it, I didn’t know what I wanted then. Not completely.”
“I get it. It is entirely possible to be in love with two people in very different ways.”
“You would understand that. There is one thing you’ve never understood that I feel like you need to. People don’t see the way you see them. You can tell yourself the things you do are obvious all you like, but unless you say it, it’s an assumption on your part that they get it. You are the bravest person I’ve ever known. Except in this one way.”
Xavier poured his bottle of water over his head, and drank the small amount that was left. The exhaustion is obvious in his face, and his labored breathing, but he dismisses it with a grunt and a head shake, and returns to weights at his feet. He gets two reps in, before dropping them and approaching his brother.
“We kept this secret together. We came up with this..this..plan! To go after the mother fucker. To sacrifice what we are and what we could be to make him suffer for what he did. And we were close. So close. And then this. This asshole, this moron...He shits all over it and why? Because I didn’t want him obsessed with someone that got him nowhere? I go out of my fucking way to show him the truth, and he rips my family apart? Feeds that fuck of a father I had, just to prove a point? There are easier ways to prove a point. I know all of them, Vin. And I swear, I won’t be utilizing any of them.”
“He reminded me of myself in a lot of ways. The way he saw things in this business. He wasn’t exact, but he was close. He just needed a helping hand. Someone to push him in the right direction. Make it clear that good, bad, and indifferent...It’s all a spectrum that depends on the onlooker. What one person sees as evil, another might deem necessary.”
“A spectrum...Like sexuality.”
“Exactly. Like how it’s chaos to the fly but normal to the spider. What if you could always be the spider? What if you could look at the perspective of anyone, or everyone, and know their reasons, their intent, and if not agree, then understand? What is evil if you get the motivation behind the act? How can you consider what you do good because it’s for your benefit, but what they do for theirs is bad? It isn’t logical, and it’s done solely for our own protection. Stratford almost saw it. Almost. He looked at what I was showing him, and decided to close his eyes, instead of opening his mind. And that’s ok. It’s hard to change. Even when everything he’s done, every step he took, has gotten him nowhere but failure. His career, his marriage, his friendships, etcetera. He’s done more to harm himself than Damon or I ever could. But not for long. I don’t know what I’m going to do to him. I know it won’t be pretty. I know it won’t be kind. I do know this, I’m done trying to save him. He’s made his choice, he’s chosen his side, and now it’s time for him to rot on it.”
“Perhaps you should give him a chance to explain.”
“Vin, you’re the first person who wants to destroy people. You bully people on twitter, now that you know how to use it.”
“It never had a use until I realized I could bully people.”
“Stratford can be your friend, Vin. I promise I’m okay with it. I’m glad he did something nice for you. Really. Go camping. But he got our sister arrested for fucking mur-der, because he hired some cocksucker without honor to look into our family. He’s too tough to show mercy and too stupid to be taught a lesson. This match will be my best, and maybe his last. Because you get what you ask for. What he has asked for I am more than willing to give. And you already have one crippled best friend. Why not make it two? Why not show him that sometimes, the helping hand, can become a fist real fucking quick.”
Xavier curses beneath his breath. Fists clenched tighter than they’ve been all night which is the second surprise he’s experiencing. The first was that he’d forgotten something. Something important. Thankfully, it had returned in time.
Years earlier, he stood in a line of other young men with the same dream. To be trained by a man who had made a name for himself not only in the sport of professional fighting, but in the military, but his own and others. His name was Bryan Fury. He would start out as Xavier’s enemy, and would become his mentor, friend, and father in law. There were many memories that Xavier had taken with him from his time with Fury, but this was one he’d lost sight of. Thankfully it was all flooding back to him.
The air was cold and stiff and there was a smell of burning oil in the air, which is how most of the buildings on Fury’s property were heated. Kerosene or some other type, perhaps a mixture. It was chokingly thick the first day you walked in and incredibly comfortable by the end of your first week. Smelled like fresh baked cookies.
Xavier was only there for a day, and the rest of the group had shunned him. They’d gotten there a week early in an effort to impress the old man. Xavier had shown up precisely when told. The Russian guys joked about it, calling him a khorosho, or goody goody if said twice. They were gone two days later, along with everyone else who’d failed to follow an order before they’d even started. The most they had all laughed was on this day though. Before any physical activity had occurred, before the contest to see who would fall asleep sooner, there was this. The line up. Fury, who drank a cup of tea from a very old green mug, walked up and down the line and asked each and everyone of them the same question.
‘Are you afraid?’
They all answered no, and smiled. They were soldiers and pit fighters and hooligans of the soccer variety and not, and they all held their heads up high over the zero amount of fear they felt. Xavier’s turn came and when he said ‘yes’ as loudly as they had said ‘no’, they cackled. They pointed and gestured and bellowed and judged him and joked. Bryan Fury cleared his throat and with it their voices. He stood in front of the kid he once tried to kill, and asked him why.
‘Because I am weak, and I fear I am so weak I can not become strong. I have the willpower to start. I fear I do not have the willpower to continue. Because I need this. Because I need to be stronger than my weakness’ now, and my weakness’ to come.’
In a matter of a week most of these men would be gone. Sent home because they couldn’t take it. Any of it or even one small part. Something in them broke and stayed that way. They started to slow down. And then they stopped. They told themselves it was a pause, but once they sat down they never stood up. But he was built differently. He knew that if he stopped for anything, then he could stop because of anything. That in order to get to the top, and stay at the top, you didn’t just have to climb harder, you had to keep climbing. To keep pushing. Not only against the man against you but also the man within you. He is your worst enemy. He is the one set to end you. Fury knew then what Stratford was set to learn now: That while most people in Xavier’s position might say ‘why me’. Xavier said Try me.
If half of the credit Xavier had given Stratford had been deserved, he would have been paying attention. He’d see what he’s been doing. Not so much as a whole, but in connection to him. The things he’s attempting to accomplish, the things Xavier is trying to build. The world he’s trying to create. He may not understand my reasons, or comprehend his motives, but he believes he’ well versed in his actions. That’s why he’s tried to duplicate them. To play the kind of game with Xavier that he thinks he would try to play. Except he missed an important part. The things he did ‘to Strat, he did for Strat. The things Strat did to X, he did for himself. Revenge for his interest, for his effort. Which had he spoken to his wife Demi, he would’ve expected. Strat does not know who is for him, or against him. Stephen looked at Damon Riggs as his path onward. And looked at X as a man who was only selfish. He looked at his wife as an enemy, instead of one of the only people in this world who actually cares. There’s a reason for this, Stephen looks at Demi, Xavier and anyone else that even attempts to give a shit about him, and all he sees is hate. Not because he hates them. But because he wants them to hate him, as much as he does. He watched X try to help him, to free him, and he balked at it. He unleashed hell on Xavier’s family because he tried his best to be his friend, or something close to it. In his own way, yes. And now the hell that Stratford had unleashed, was going to be laid back upon him tenfold.
Despite what he may think, what he wanted didn’t happen. This might have distracted a lesser man. Torn a smaller mind apart at the seams and left him with an opponent holding on by his fingertips to the sanity they were sure to never see again. But Xavier is not a lesser man. He is the fucking Kraken. You think you’ve done him in and he comes back harder and faster than ever. That’s what champions do, not that Strat would know. He’s never been there before, so the only thing he knows of it is what others tell him. Xavier would solidify what they’ve said. You do not get to wear that belt, and be afraid of conflict. You do not get up in the morning, you get up at night. You go to sleep early or you don’t sleep at all. This is not a one day job. This is everyday, Xavier is everyday. Because he is disciplined. Far too much to be distracted. By any one. Or anything. Even Stratford.
The decision was made. The time for friendship and kindness was over and gone. The hopes that Xavier had, what little they were, had been dashed and minced at his feet before his fucking eyes and nothing was going to make it better. He was not important, Not in the way he was meant to be. Stratford belonged to others more than he’d ever belong to Xavier. The moment to make that mistake apparent was here. Stratford had watched him thrive. Now he was going to watch him bleed. Because he didn’t see any other way. Because he didn’t have any other choice. And because you always hurt the one you love.
Le’andra Fury, Xavier’s newly recommitted wife and love of his life, walked in. Vincent turned to her and smiled. He had never expected his brother to get married. But after knowing Le’ for five minutes, could see why she was going to be his forever.
“Anything further?”
“Kal needs stitches. Your brother needs a phone, and I need a drink.”
“I’ll join you.”
It was a short walk to the Turn(t)buckle, the tavern Sarah had convinced them to build in the middle of the compound. The nearby town had plenty of places they could all get drunk, but this place had the added benefit of privacy. Something they valued so much, they bought a small town to obtain it. Le’andre grabbed two bottles of scotch from the cabinet, and held them up for Vincent’s approval.
“For taste?” She said, showing off the bottle of Macallan 1824. “Or effect?” Displaying a bottle of JW Blue.
“Give me the blue one.”
“...we’re sharing it, Vincent.”
“Oh. Ok.”
Putting back the Mac, she grabbed two glasses and sat next to Black. They cheered their first glass and downed it right away.
“It was a beautiful wedding. I’m sorry your honeymoon is...this.”
“It’s fine. We can go anywhere any time. I’m just worried.”
“I need you to be more specific.”
“He told you?”
“He doesn’t have to. Unlike him I’m good at reading people. Especially him.”
“I am a well adjusted, healthy person who understands the complexity of emotions. I also know that my husband is my husband because no one else was ever going to check the boxes that I could. We are both anomalies, Xavier and I. I would not ask him to change his shirt for me, let alone who he has feeing for.”
“Can’t be easy though.”
“The feelings he has for Stratford, they are substantial. But they are not the same as the ones he has for me.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m more concerned with what the lack of Sarah is going to do to him. And you, by the way.”
“I find myself concerned as well.”
“This man, Thomas. He simply mustn’t be allowed to get away with this. Stratford made this possible, but those of us outside of the tunnel vision know who’s really to blame.”
“Once he’s done with Stratford, he’ll see that. And then we can come up with a plan.”
“...well what if we don’t have to wait. What if...Vin. I’m going to tell you a lot of information right now. I know you don’t like conversation, but at the end of it, Thomas will get what he deserves.”
Vincent downs his glass and grabs the bottle, spinning the cap off and chucking it. “I’m all ears.”
Le’andra begins to speak but the volume dies, and so does the light, as we fade out on a neon sign in the background. The bright yellow cursive is our only focal point as the void surrounds it. The word is Wolf and it flickers until it dies and we fade into the blackness of the void.