Pain of Debt (Vincent Black)
Apr 18, 2021 20:58:46 GMT -5
☠ VooDoo ☠, FXR Dane Preston, and 3 more like this
Post by somethingwicked on Apr 18, 2021 20:58:46 GMT -5
It was weird being in a penthouse in New York, considering you had spent most of your adult life in a one room apartment that had meant only to be an office and never a home. Most people would’ve gone crazy in those cramped four walls. Not Vincent Black though. He was already crazier than most normal people ever would be. A little more couldn’t do much worse. Being in these wide open rooms, surrounded by furniture that wasn’t selected because it could fit in the staircase that led up to his front door, served food that wasn’t on clearance or stolen. He saw that maybe his life of absolute solitude might have its drawbacks. And then she walked in.
She was holding her umbrella by the handle with the tip pointed down. He recalled this because it seemed like she was looking to stab someone. Not just the position of the umbrella but also the frantic expression that engulfed her otherwise soft face. Ironic how this expression was present not out of an impatience or anger, but out of impatience to express love.
Before he could unbend his knees fully, she was across the room. Her arms around his neck, and before long, his face in her hands. No person he’d ever known would be so brazen as to attempt such a thing. Until her. She looked into his eyes as no one else had ever. As if she was watching a replay of his life up until this point that only she could see. And she smiled all the while, which told him she was most definitely not seeing any such thing. He’d never seen a smile as lovely, nor unpunchable. Not until Her.
When she spoke, it was not a voice he heard but the sounds of an angel calling out. It was soft and sweet but firm and endearing. Vincent Othello Black had met many people, punched most of them, and had decided to do so within the first few minutes of doing so. Never had he loved someone so quickly, and so completely.
Sarah Wolf
“ You’ve been through a lot. Most of it alone. I know that feeling. I don’t know it that well anymore. And as of now, neither will you. You got a big sister now, kid. And I’m here. “ Vincent did not cry that day, but tears dropped from his eyes every day after that he it crossed his mind. She was the first person to ever see him as someone to protect. As big as he was, as strong as he was, she looked at him and saw a person worth standing in front of, and a person trusted enough to stand behind. “ Let’s get some food and talk, huh? Before the model gets here. “
In the moments that followed she’d learn about him as much as anyone could. She’d tell him about herself when she felt it was necessary to get him to drop his guard, or to simply let him know that he wasn’t alone in the kind of suffering that life was best at bringing. Over the next few weeks, they spoke daily. Text messages, emails and phone calls shared daily. Sometimes she’d call for a favor, sometimes she’d ask to do him one. Other times it was just to ask how his day was. No one had ever done that before. And until her, he’d never cared to answer.
Sitting on his motorcycle, the red and blue lights bathing the already sun soaked area, he could feel his patience slipping. He had very little to speak of at best and with every moment that amount whittled down more and more. He knew the outcome. He’d feared it, and he’d woke up nightly because of it. She was gone. It was over. He’d lost people before. But no one he loved as much. This wasn’t just lost. This was devastation on a level he’d never known. Not until her.
Vincent rested his forehead on the throttle of his motorcycle. His skin hot from both temperature and temper, he could feel the grip pushing into his flesh. When he pulled his head away, his skin would be pale and indented and maybe even a little cut, and none of that mattered one bit. All he cared about was that those doors would open, and she’d be back. In a matter of seconds one of his hopes came true and the other became a nightmare.
The doors burst open, and Xavier appeared. Vincent did not have to walk the halls of this abandoned hellhole to know that something terrible had occurred. It was written across his brother's face, and weighed heavily behind his eyes.
In the hours to come, there would be discussions about the amount of blood left behind in a cell. There would be DNA testing, there would be fingerprinting, and there would be more waiting, and precisely zero answers, and even less information. The authorities were playing this very close to their chest, as well they should. A prominent and well known woman was picked up by the Sheriff’s office for the FBI and was then removed from their custody and vanished into thin air. Had it not been for an unknown hacker tracking the tolls of prison vehicles going over state lines, this location never would’ve been known. They would’ve never gotten closer. Despite that it was still too far away.
In the days to come, silence became hard to manage. As no news was bad news. Eager to keep their fuck up the fuck out of the papers, the FBI were treating this as if Sarah had somehow escaped and enrolled herself into a shut down mental institution. Like one does.
And then this morning. Xavier called Vincent first thing, clearly upset. The lab the FBI used for their blood testing had less defense digitally than they thought, and a certain unnamed hacker had made quick work of their lax protection. The test results of the puddles of blood had come back. And not all of it belonged to Sarah. But most of it did.
Vincent silently pressed the disconnect button and walked out of his house, leaving his phone where it dropped. He grabbed no keys, and he told no person of his intent because he had no intent other than to put one foot in front of the other, until he could walk no more.
The first place he went to, was the bar he had bought and subsequently forgotten about. He had meant to make it a constant thing, where he would use it to make fun of his opponents. Instead it had been left to operate as the local watering hole and had made a decent profit thanks to the mall Santa he’d hired to run it. Looking at the outside he remembered having beers with Sarah. She makes fun of him for going for the light beer, and he teases her for drinking a Budweiser when she’d never been in Vietnam.
And now he was standing outside of it alone, fighting the realization that he most likely would never see her again. He wanted to close his eyes and think that she would be there when he opened them. That truth be told she had been everywhere he was, just beyond his sight. Foolishly he snapped his head from side to side looking over his surroundings. There was a homeless man camped out by the bar, broken bottles everywhere the eye can see, and hipsters gathering en masse a few blocks down around a few other hipsters with those fucking bikes they all love so much. But no Sarah.
Vincent locked onto the homeless man, and approached him. Arms wrapped around himself, his head down, it was almost like he was sleeping. Getting closer, Vin realizes that he is very much awake, and is talking to himself. ‘Fiber Spun’ he mutters, his toothless mouth sending spit towards the ground and his knees which are held up to his chest. Vincent listens to him repeat it over and over and the madness the man is captivated by captivates him, as well. He wonders what it was that drove him this far. What made him finally snap instead of bend. He doesn’t ask. Because he can’t afford to know.
Vincent Black
Standing before him, Vincent tried to speak, but instead of saying ‘Excuse me. I’m not having a great time right now. And I’d like to...as my children put it, save my vibe. If you would let me, I’d like to give you some money. Maybe you can sleep in a bed instead of that pile of boxes. Would you be okay with that?’ he said “ I don’t know what this world did to you, and this money won’t fix it, but fuck it, you’ll have a better night with it than I will. “ The homeless man grabbed the wad of cash, with the silver money clip still bounding the cash together, and cupped it in both hands.
He repeats his phrase and goes about his business, never looking up at Vincent, never pausing his constant chattering this single phrase. Disheartened, Vincent nods at the man, and goes to walk away. Suddenly the man’s greasy hand reaches up and with black fingers, he grabs Vincent’s wrist. He extends his other hand with a single white card, and utters the word ‘Help Sisters.’ Vincent looks at the card and sees that it’s for a mission nearby run by a group of nuns. He laughs at the idea of a nun helping anyone, especially him, and nods in gratitude for the card. Afraid of hurting the man’s feelings, he slips the card into his back pocket, and walks away.
He’s up the stairs and bursting through the door of the crackhouse apartment that Vhodka and he set up for the Fetal four, the unrested protoge’s they’ve adopted into their lives in the hopes of saving this business, and these idiots, from themselves. He rushes past JJ and Martha, and ignores Noelle, and bursts into Asher’s room. The kid is on the mattress on the floor, passed out completely. Vincent grabs a milkcrate full of crap and chucks it not so much at the wall, but into it. Asher pops up, unaware of what is going on, and finds Vincent’s face inches from his own.
Vincent Black
“ Listen. I understand you. Better than you think. But I’ve had enough. This isn’t a FUCKING GAME. You wanted in. Now you prove you belong. Or I will dump you in the middle of some eastern european country where you will never find your way back from. The games are fucking DONE. JJ has been busting his ass, and damn near made it to the finals of this god damn tournament. AND AS A REWARD, he gets to team with you. Listen carefully. You are not going to let that kid down. You let me down, you let yourself down, you’re so good at that, but if you let him down I swear to god I will break your fucking NECK DO YOU UNDERSTAND? “
Asher doesn’t say a word, he just stares. Into the maddest eyes of the maddest man he’s ever known. Vincent loses his sight in that moment, becoming so enraged that his vision and his mind shutdown completely. When he comes to, he’s parked outside his apartment with Vhodka, his hand still gripping the wheel and his teeth almost crushing each other under the weight. He tries his best to calm himself down, to anchor himself in the moment, but he fails. Instead, his mind turns to his job, and how things are about to get very hard, very fast, for people that are very not him.
“ I entered this business because it was my zero option. Banned from UFC for not being poster child material, and also because I jawed Dana White for looking at me cross. I did not respect this business in the beginning. The yammering aspect, the constant back and forth. It exasperated me. I did not sign up to chat. I signed up to fight. It wasn’t until I sat down and realized that the average UFC fighter has maybe 3 fights a year, whereas a professional wrestler can top out at 52. So I stuck by it. And I was good at it. One of the best with minimal effort put forth. I changed this business. “
“ I made friends in this business. Not just work associates, but actual friends. Create true bonds with others that have spanned years, and all that those years have wrought. For a man who knew one friend his entire life up until his debut in this business, to have as many as I have here and now, is not ‘nice’. It’s a genuine miracle. “
“ I found my family through this business. Having grown up alone, surrounded by people, I never knew what it was like to be accepted, and loved, for who and what I was. I met the two women I would love in life in this business. Two women who understood me even when I didn’t quite understand myself, and loved me anyway. Relationships that spawned 4 children, and memories that unlike every other memory I’ve ever known, do not inspire anger, but appreciation for their occurrence. “
“ For all I’ve done to legitimize this business, this business has done far more to legitimize me. It took an incomplete man, a floating void of nothingness and gave it substance. Showed it how to live, how to laugh, and how to love. So it is preposterous to me that I should have to fight both the female version of Xavier and the male version of Apathy, in order to prove that I am a ‘made man.’ I’ve already been made by this. Of course, I did not sign up to prove that. I never needed to show the world that I was made. I signed up so I could show the world that the others who dare to stand before me could be unmade. “
“ I won’t mention the names of the people I’ve gone through to get through. As that is a disservice they do not deserve. Each and every one of them fought to get to where I stopped them. And to say they are anything but successful in their own right says that I don’t deserve to be here. Everyone who is anyone in this tournament made it to the point they were meant to make it to. Except for Apathy. They don’t deserve to be here. They won the lotto. “
“ I won’t say it, but they know it. They know how things looked, and how they went, and someone made the decision they didn’t want this as bad as they wanted to avoid a situation they didn’t like. So they failed through their disinterest. Apathy should be glad that this situation spawned said disinterest, Because if this person had given a single shit, they would not be the person I’d be talking to. They’d be the person we were talking about. “
“ Apathy. A feeling I’ve known well in my life. Having never had anyone, nor anything worth fighting for or protecting, I spent my early existence defining the word and having the word define me. Now it is different. Now I have a girlfriend who is the literal light of my life. Several children who I adore even if one has no idea, and two could care less. I have friends. I have a family. I have everything I’ve ever wanted that I didn’t know I wanted. Apathy once was the ruler of my entire existence, and now it is not even a factor. My world is ruled by a far different emotion. “
“ RAGE. unconditional, unlimited, unadulterated RAGE. Rage against a world that would punish an innocent woman for the crimes of her idiotic brothers. Rage against a world that would make it necessary for a man’s love to question her dedication to the one thing she’s been dedicated to over the time he’s known her. Rage at the idea, the very notion that the only people in this business that give a flying fuck about this business are those with his last fucking name. RAGE at the fact that he must fight one he respects to fight one he loves. And RAGE, that when this is all said and done, and his hand is raised as the victor of this tournament FOR NOTHING, he will not be one step closer to what it is he wants, or needs, or even has. He won’t be better. Or more respected. He’ll just be different. Which is all he’s ever been anyway. “
“ But I will do my part. I will push onward despite it all, and I will give this business what it wants. What it demands, of me. On pain of death, I will repay this business with my effort, always and in all ways. Because after all that it has given to me, and for me, I owe it that much. And I can handle the pain of death, but I’ve grown awfully tired of the pain of debt. “
Vincent exists the car, and leaves the door open, and the engine running. He walks slowly up the stairs, stomping down on each step either on purpose or subconsciously. Reaching the door, he realizes he doesn’t have his keys as they are still in the ignition of the car. He sighs, and attempts to knock, but instead, he pounds on the door with as much force as he has, which is significant. The door opens a moment later and Vhodka appears with the axe handle that Vin made famous through most of his career. She looks at his face and sees the rage that envelopes it. It is around his eyes, in the snarl of his face, in the flaring of his nostrils. She watches as the veins in his body rush to the surface and his muscles tighten to the point of almost explosiveness. She becomes slack jawed as his entire body begins to shake uncontrollably. She waits for him to speak, to swing, to do anything other than stand there. And when he does do something, it is not what she was prepared for at all.
Vincent Black drops to his knees, holds his face in his hands, and sobs. Vhodka drops the axe handle, and falls to her knees as well, clutching him in her arms as he shakes. For the first time since he watched his son being born, Vincent Black weeps, and does so uncontrollably. It is hours before he is able to speak, or even look Vhodka in the eye. But that is ok, because to her, love is not communication or understanding. Love is the attempt. And she tries the entire time.
She tries to get him to eat, to take a drink of water, to find a moment to breath, but he refuses. He refuses it all. As if he is punishing himself for all of it, right here and now and also maybe later. She finally got him into the shower, and handed him a beer with the highest alcohol count he had in the fridge, and gathered his clothes so he’d have no choice but to come out naked, which is how he was most relaxed. As she walked a small white card came fluttering out of one of the pockets, and landed on the floor. Vhodka who is confused by most, was even more confused by the card. She dropped the pants and went back into the shower.
Vhodka Marie
“ Vee. Why do you have the address of your bar written on a card? Did you forget? ”
Vin pulled back the shower curtain which was hung by a quarter of the necessary plastic rings, and takes the card from her hand. Sure enough the address is written on the card in a familiar handwriting. Turning the card over, Vincent sees its the address for the convent a few miles from his bar. Why would the homeless man sitting outside his bar, the same one that’s been there for weeks, have a business card from a soup kitchen nunnery with his address on. And then..
He had no teeth. No teeth make a lisp. A lisp changes your words. Words can blend together if said constantly after another. Sometimes a phrase can sound unlike what is meant. We often misunderstand people for many reasons, one of which being expectation. Vincent expected the man to be out of his mind so he simply dismissed what he was saying as gibberish. Drunken, toothless, gibberish. What was it he said? What was it?
Spun Fiber
SPUN FIBER
SPN FBR
PN FR
BN FR
BON FIRE
“ fuck.“
Vin dashes out of the shower and into the next room, scanning the floor trying to find his cellphone that he dropped earlier. Lifting the half couch that they chainsawed to get inside and then forgot about the other half, he finds it. Missed calls from Xavier make it the easiest thing this day has to offer, as he only has to swipe it to dial the call he’s frantic to make. Xavier picks up on two rings, which is two rings short of what Xavier is known for.
Xavier Wolf
“ Take longer next time. “
Vincent Black
“ I think Sarah is alive. And I think I know where she is. “
Xavier Wolf
“ is she safe? “
Vincent Black
“ If I’m right, then yes. “
Xavier Wolf
“ Good. We’ll do my thing first. Sending you a location. “
Vincent Black
“ Where are we going? “
Xavier Wolf
“ Somewhere we should have been months ago. Therapy. “
Vin listens to Xavier’s explanation, which we are not privy to, and a smile, something Vin has not had for days, begins to stretch across his still dripping wet face. He turns to Vhodka, and hangs up the phone. He looks around the room for clothes to put on, but only finds the same small black dress he had put on in a rush the last time.
Vhodka Marie
“ NO! ” Vhodka yells as she rushes across the room, snatching the dress from his hands.
Vincent Black
“ Ok. “
Vhodka Marie
“ Wear that orange one over there, it goes better with your complexion. ”
Vincent Black
“ Thank you. “
Vincent kisses Vhodka fully, her body pressing against his soaking wet naked form as snuggly as a puzzle piece snaps into its proper place. Vincent pulls away and with a gleam of gore and violence in his eye, grabs the orange spandex dress and slips it over his head, pulling it down over his ass and crotch, and rips down the stairs. In the moments to follow the sound of a car tearing away echoes throughout the area, as he races toward a location where the only loud noises to be heard will be the screams of those he intends to meet.