Post by Dorling on Aug 5, 2018 8:29:10 GMT -5
Lady May. Assassin, ghost, Japanese gangster. What of those are true? She saved him. She took out those wishing to do him harm, when he had been warned that she may well be the person trying to kill him.
She was standoffish, reserved – somewhat emotionless. But she explained to him why she had saved him slowly and methodically. She said that it was due to what had happened with Tasacs and Gutierrez, that she was there – that his actions had somehow helped her, even though his actions that lead to the destruction of both Gutierrez and his empire were unintentional. He cast his mind back. Was she really there? Did he notice something off? He cast his mind back to the events of the night…
Somewhere in Vegas, some time on 2nd June.
When he was shaken awake he was gruffly handled through a few doorways and dumped on to a chair. The hood was pulled from his head and, after his eyes adjusted to the sudden inrush of light, he saw that he was sitting in what looked like a stock room. Where exactly, he had no idea. He was between two rows of metal shelving, various car parts upon them. A quick turn of his head revealed that there were several more rows both to the left and right.
In front of him, sitting on a chair of his own and smoking what was clearly a ‘marijuana cigarette’ was Teofilo Gutierrez. He as a fairly skinny man, with an unkempt mousy brown goatee on his skinny, tattooed face. He was shirtless, showing off the tattoos that covered most of his torso. In his lap was the package, which he’d obviously liberated from the trunk of the Pinto. He was fiddling with it but put it on the shelving unit next to him when he realised Dorling was looking at him.
‘You know what is in there?’
‘I have no idea.’
(Wait. Was that a scream? Is somebody screaming in here somewhere?)
‘You didn’t take a peek?’
‘Tasacs told me not to.’
‘And that’s who you are? A little lapdog for the Hungarian pig? I expected more of you.’
‘Well, sorry to disappoint.’
(That’s definitely screaming. Somebody is NOT having a good time. Is he torturing somebody to intimidate me?)
Gutierrez leapt from his seat and hit Dorling with a solid right hook.
‘I don’t want none of your shit. You shut the fuck up unless I ask you a damned question.’
Dorling raised an eyebrow and spat the blood from his mouth on to the floor.
Ok, ok. Fast forward this bit.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The next few moments were a bit of a blur. As Dorling was – literally – thrown from the building he was aware of a great rush of air and a moment of intense heat. He hadn’t even figured out where he was geographically before he as flung in the air by the force of the blast.
As he straightened his vision he realised that he was at some old garage in the desert. There was now a large hole in the side of it and, unfortunately, a wrecked Pinto sitting just inside it. His hearing started to come back in as a LOT of Colombians appeared and started to stare at first the building, and then him.
(And they are also running after somebody else. Who IS that?)
‘Oh shit.’
He got to his feet and leapt over a pile of tyres as the gunfire started to kick up the dust around him. The sun was starting to go down. He sat there for a moment, not sure what to do. Out of nowhere, a red Mercedes slid to a halt next to him. The door flung open and the driver yelled to him ‘get the fuck in’ or something similar.
It was Carmen. He scrambled into the door and she buried the accelerator.
‘What the hell are you doing here Esparza?’
‘Obviously somebody has to look out for you. What the fuck just happened?’
‘Well, I delivered a package to Gutierrez.’
(And inadvertently set someone free.)
So there you have it.
May WAS held captive by Gutierrez and Dorling help her escape by sleepwalking into an assassination from Viktor Tasacs. He looked at her.
‘You seem to have trouble comprehending what I am saying to you Mr Dorling.’
‘I don’t prescribe to your notion of honour. You’ve already saved my life once, I don’t see why you feel obliged to travel to Europe to continue to protect me. We’re even.’
‘We are not. The threat on your life still exists. Gutierrez and his operation did not begin and end in Las Vegas. He was part of a machine and now that machine is breaking down. Those above him are coming for you, and I fear that they are looking for some kind of compensation. Or revenge. You need my help.’
‘I don’t like to be in debt to people, May. I won’t allow you to get yourself hurt to protect me. People are lining up to get themselves in harm’s way for some reason and I don’t understand it.’
‘You will not allow me? Your permission is not required. I will fulfil my role as my honour requires. I will be in London for your wrestling show, whether you want me to be or not.’
2nd August, Blackheath, London. 1400HRS.
Dorling looked at the computer screen and sighed. Esparza, beamed into his hotel room from Las Vegas, via the internet, tutted at him.
‘Dorling you need to come home and get yourself into FBI protection. You have no idea how dangerous it is for you now.’
‘I have an idea.’
‘No, you really don’t. I’m not supposed to be looking out for you, but the movements of these Colombians is a big enough deal that everybody in the field office down here is aware of it. Something is coming, something is about to happen and I’ve got a horrible feeling that it centres around you.’
‘Well I do like to be the centre of attention!’
‘This isn’t a joke, Dorling. Just stay safe, please.’
><><><><><><><><><><><
‘Christian fucking Connolly.
I’ve honestly had almost enough of you. These repeated interactions between us are becoming tiresome. For so long you pretended to be the man that you wanted to be, to be a noble and strong guy with humility and integrity. You are not. At the end of the day you just became the same kind of son of a bitch I’ve been dealing with my entire career.
Sucker punches and two on ones. No honour, no integrity. Opportunism and douchebaggery.
I don’t hate you, Christian. Far from it. I began thinking that I may be able to respect you but any chances of that are now gone. As a result, everything that you may have represented to me is gone.
You are nothing. You are nobody.
I will trample you as I trample the trash into the garbage can. I will dispose of you and take your championship. Obviously, we will put on a show and we will bring the house down in front of MY home fans, MY TEAM DORLING.
You will see what it is like to be truly loved and adored. You will see what it is like to be truly respected.
Know that you will never have that, and that you will always be inferior to me, championship belt or not. See you in London, Connolly.
She was standoffish, reserved – somewhat emotionless. But she explained to him why she had saved him slowly and methodically. She said that it was due to what had happened with Tasacs and Gutierrez, that she was there – that his actions had somehow helped her, even though his actions that lead to the destruction of both Gutierrez and his empire were unintentional. He cast his mind back. Was she really there? Did he notice something off? He cast his mind back to the events of the night…
Somewhere in Vegas, some time on 2nd June.
When he was shaken awake he was gruffly handled through a few doorways and dumped on to a chair. The hood was pulled from his head and, after his eyes adjusted to the sudden inrush of light, he saw that he was sitting in what looked like a stock room. Where exactly, he had no idea. He was between two rows of metal shelving, various car parts upon them. A quick turn of his head revealed that there were several more rows both to the left and right.
In front of him, sitting on a chair of his own and smoking what was clearly a ‘marijuana cigarette’ was Teofilo Gutierrez. He as a fairly skinny man, with an unkempt mousy brown goatee on his skinny, tattooed face. He was shirtless, showing off the tattoos that covered most of his torso. In his lap was the package, which he’d obviously liberated from the trunk of the Pinto. He was fiddling with it but put it on the shelving unit next to him when he realised Dorling was looking at him.
‘You know what is in there?’
‘I have no idea.’
(Wait. Was that a scream? Is somebody screaming in here somewhere?)
‘You didn’t take a peek?’
‘Tasacs told me not to.’
‘And that’s who you are? A little lapdog for the Hungarian pig? I expected more of you.’
‘Well, sorry to disappoint.’
(That’s definitely screaming. Somebody is NOT having a good time. Is he torturing somebody to intimidate me?)
Gutierrez leapt from his seat and hit Dorling with a solid right hook.
‘I don’t want none of your shit. You shut the fuck up unless I ask you a damned question.’
Dorling raised an eyebrow and spat the blood from his mouth on to the floor.
Ok, ok. Fast forward this bit.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The next few moments were a bit of a blur. As Dorling was – literally – thrown from the building he was aware of a great rush of air and a moment of intense heat. He hadn’t even figured out where he was geographically before he as flung in the air by the force of the blast.
As he straightened his vision he realised that he was at some old garage in the desert. There was now a large hole in the side of it and, unfortunately, a wrecked Pinto sitting just inside it. His hearing started to come back in as a LOT of Colombians appeared and started to stare at first the building, and then him.
(And they are also running after somebody else. Who IS that?)
‘Oh shit.’
He got to his feet and leapt over a pile of tyres as the gunfire started to kick up the dust around him. The sun was starting to go down. He sat there for a moment, not sure what to do. Out of nowhere, a red Mercedes slid to a halt next to him. The door flung open and the driver yelled to him ‘get the fuck in’ or something similar.
It was Carmen. He scrambled into the door and she buried the accelerator.
‘What the hell are you doing here Esparza?’
‘Obviously somebody has to look out for you. What the fuck just happened?’
‘Well, I delivered a package to Gutierrez.’
(And inadvertently set someone free.)
So there you have it.
May WAS held captive by Gutierrez and Dorling help her escape by sleepwalking into an assassination from Viktor Tasacs. He looked at her.
‘You seem to have trouble comprehending what I am saying to you Mr Dorling.’
‘I don’t prescribe to your notion of honour. You’ve already saved my life once, I don’t see why you feel obliged to travel to Europe to continue to protect me. We’re even.’
‘We are not. The threat on your life still exists. Gutierrez and his operation did not begin and end in Las Vegas. He was part of a machine and now that machine is breaking down. Those above him are coming for you, and I fear that they are looking for some kind of compensation. Or revenge. You need my help.’
‘I don’t like to be in debt to people, May. I won’t allow you to get yourself hurt to protect me. People are lining up to get themselves in harm’s way for some reason and I don’t understand it.’
‘You will not allow me? Your permission is not required. I will fulfil my role as my honour requires. I will be in London for your wrestling show, whether you want me to be or not.’
2nd August, Blackheath, London. 1400HRS.
Dorling looked at the computer screen and sighed. Esparza, beamed into his hotel room from Las Vegas, via the internet, tutted at him.
‘Dorling you need to come home and get yourself into FBI protection. You have no idea how dangerous it is for you now.’
‘I have an idea.’
‘No, you really don’t. I’m not supposed to be looking out for you, but the movements of these Colombians is a big enough deal that everybody in the field office down here is aware of it. Something is coming, something is about to happen and I’ve got a horrible feeling that it centres around you.’
‘Well I do like to be the centre of attention!’
‘This isn’t a joke, Dorling. Just stay safe, please.’
><><><><><><><><><><><
‘Christian fucking Connolly.
I’ve honestly had almost enough of you. These repeated interactions between us are becoming tiresome. For so long you pretended to be the man that you wanted to be, to be a noble and strong guy with humility and integrity. You are not. At the end of the day you just became the same kind of son of a bitch I’ve been dealing with my entire career.
Sucker punches and two on ones. No honour, no integrity. Opportunism and douchebaggery.
I don’t hate you, Christian. Far from it. I began thinking that I may be able to respect you but any chances of that are now gone. As a result, everything that you may have represented to me is gone.
You are nothing. You are nobody.
I will trample you as I trample the trash into the garbage can. I will dispose of you and take your championship. Obviously, we will put on a show and we will bring the house down in front of MY home fans, MY TEAM DORLING.
You will see what it is like to be truly loved and adored. You will see what it is like to be truly respected.
Know that you will never have that, and that you will always be inferior to me, championship belt or not. See you in London, Connolly.