Smoke...Meet Fire (Collab vs Veronica Hater & Jenny Piss)
Jul 1, 2023 11:03:18 GMT -5
Spencer Adams and Lycana like this
Post by Jim Caedus on Jul 1, 2023 11:03:18 GMT -5
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The words were seared into his brain at this point, yet he sat there, reading the burner-borne untraceable text over and over again.
A heavy sigh escapes him as he slumps further down on the headboard, running a hand over his face.
“Jimmy?” Jim looks up at Lycana, hovering uncertainly in the doorway of his bedroom. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah girl, I’m…” he pauses, a silent war waging within. Finally, an exhalation. “No.”
Lycana makes her way over, settling down on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to gently touch his thigh. “Tell me.”
The story pours out, filling her in on all the details of the last months of agony, leaving none of the gory specifics out...
adambarker1981.proboards.com/thread/16056/res-honey-home
adambarker1981.proboards.com/thread/16069/res-2-best-served-cold
“...I need your help Tavvy.”
“Jesus Jimmy…” her eyes wide, Ly scoots closer, tugging him in for a hug. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? You know how I feel about kids.”
"I wanted t' go thru "normal" channels; cops, FBI, private investigators…but they ain't found shit. I needja, girl. There's gotta be sum'in you can do."
“I…I’m just learning, and I’m not Arcana Jimmy. But let’s try a locator spell. Do you have anything of hers that she has a connection to?”
Jim thinks for a moment, then launches off the bed and out of the room, calling over his shoulder.. “Hol’ on.”
He returns moments later, with a couple colorful objects cradled in his large hand. He sets them down on the mattress, revealing two wrist rattles and a plush sloth pacifier clip.
“She called ‘im Slothy…” Jim’s voice cracks, tears flooding his eyes as he tenderly runs a thumb over it.
Lycana gives his hand a squeeze, her own vision getting misty. “I’ll find her. I promise.”
Ly settles her fingers on them, closing her eyes and starting a soft chant. A soft pink glow starts, encompassing the toys and Ly’s hands. All of a sudden, she pulls back, looking ill.
“Shit…Jimmy…there's thousands of them.”
“Of?”
“Kids. I could only see from a distance…there’s thousands. Clusters of them. All over a massive area.”
“What about Elora?”
“I could only get the vague area. I sense…auras but I can’t pinpoint hers. I need a stronger connection.” She thinks for a minute. “Hold still!”
“What?”
“You’re her father, nothing stronger than that.”
Ly offers a small smile, then steps forward and lightly lays her palms flat on his chest, starting the incantation again. Jim jerks slightly as the pink glow returns.
“Invenient eam!”
Small flashes of teal intermingle in the glow as Lycana goes quiet, deep furrows appearing on her brow as she concentrates. Her eyes suddenly fly open. “I found her!”
“Where!??”
“Hang on.”
Another incantation. Fluid hand motions. Amber tracers in the air and..
POOF!
Our duo arrives, crash landing through the wooden roof of a shed in a heap together.
“I’m getting better at it.”
“At least y’got us both in the same place..”
They untangle their limbs and peer out from their partially concealed location, looking across the sand at the low, unassuming, tan colored ranch with emerald green trim.
"This looks like the high desert. She was this close the whole time…"
Jim rises, heading for the house. Lycana hisses out--
“What’s the plan Jimmy?”
"Go 'round back an' make sure no one leaves."
"That's not a plan!"
He doesn't respond as he quickly strides over–
--and slams his fist repeatedly on the security gate.
A male voice sounds within, irritation evident in his tone, followed by a clatter and cursing. In his periphery Jim spies Lycana heading for the opposite side of the domicile. Moments later the peep hole darkens and the voice queries-
"Who..."
The deadbolt unlocks-- Jim preparing to launch into an assault --and the inner door swings open, an obvious tweaker opening the security gate.
"Hey boss, what's going on? Got another job for us?"
Caedus hesitates.
"Come in."
Eyes narrowing in confusion, Jim steps past him and enters.
Instantly the stink of acrid sprack smoke hits his nostrils. The interior is a mess, random objects strewn throughout the front room, a kingsize mattress on the floor bearing sheets and pillows darkened from body soil, a couch and a La-Z-Boy with two females--
--and two other males (all underweight and in similar condition to the greeter) occupying them. The greeter himself heads for the couch and plops down, accepting an "oil burner" from one of the women. He ignites a Bic beneath the bowl and rolls the pookie stem, inhaling the thick white smoke before passing and exhaling.
"Sure could use another job."
"Job?"
"Yessir, that hundred k went quick."
"No one wants any of that other crap you let us take either. Not even those belts," one of the women adds rudely. "Pawn shops won't touch 'em."
"Belts?"
She nods to the corner...where Jim spots all 11 missing XWF championships he'd earned and had on display in his home. His eyes widen as realization hits...these people had ransacked his home while "The Other" piloted his body during his soul's journey in the afterlife. Of course; why else would Lycana have sensed traces of his daughter's aura here?
"Where...is...Elora," he asks, failing to mask the menace in his tone.
"Hm? Who's Elora?"
"The little girl in that house."
The greeter looks confused. "Well...that was the job, boss, remember? Take the girl and whatever else we wanted? I mean, you picked her up yourself later that same day."
Jim can't believe what he's hearing. His life had truly been dismantled by "The Other" wearing his reanimated corpse.
"You got a shit memory dude."
The greeter elbows her. "Shuttup bitch." He looks to Caedus. "We got other kids too. We find them here and there. If you want any for...whatever...I'll give you a good price."
Shock hits Jim in response to the implications and as if on cue, the voices of young children sound from a room to his right before a six year old girl runs out, commanding Jim's attention.
"Mom-"
"We're talking business you lil' shit," mom barks before hitting the pookie, "shut the fuck up!" The child looks down sadly. Jim slowly turns his gaze back to the group, his eyes glazing over.
"So...you want any? We got three."
Exhale of smoke. "Four. I'm at my wit's end with that brat there. Should've gotten her aborted, I'll trade her for a pack of smokes at this point."
The tweakers laugh.
Out back, Lycana's jaw drops as a chill runs down her spine, her heightened hearing picking up all that's being said inside. Her heart begins to pound in dread anticipation...this won't end well.
Back inside, Jim is shaking with rage as the tweakers continue to laugh. His vision alters; the borders of his sight bleed inward with black, framing these...demons...as the prior hesitation and control within him swiftly fades.
He glances down to see a short crowbar at his feet. He looks to the little girl--
"Get in your room with the others and lock the door."
--then as she retreats, stoops to snatch, straightens and hurls with all his might. It pinwheels end over end and nails the male in the La-Z-Boy directly in the nose with a metallic -KLANG-, breaking it. He hollers in pain, hands raising to his face out of instinct, for the moment incapacitated.
As the others react, the greeter grabbing the crowbar, Jim eyes a baseball bat lying on the mattress, plucks it up and advances on La-Z-Boy, "mom" and the greeter as the other woman and man hop up, dashing into the side room to his left, slamming and locking the door behind them...
...Alerting Lycana outside. She ducks down, craning her neck to peek in the barred window, spying a messy pigtailed blonde and her scarecrow counterpart. Her eyes narrow as they scramble around the room, wondering what they're doing.
The answer comes with a CLICK, as magazines are shoved into semi-automatic pistols, the CH-CHINK of racking following.
Alarm shoots through her. She has to get in. She reaches up to tug on the bars...they don't budge. Quickly she creeps around the near corner to the end of the house, trying again on the bars of the side room bathroom window, discovering these to be shoddily installed and the welded frame coming loose from the wall in her hands...
...Unlike the bat Jim is wielding with an iron grip, squaring off with the greeter. La-Z-Boy now lies on the floor, his skull severely fractured from an incredibly hard bat bludgeoning.
The greeter lunges, catching Jim in the side with the crowbar. Jim grunts in pain before angrily headbutting him. He backpedals and catches a swing of the Louisville Slugger to the temple, dropping.
-CRASH-
"Mom" smashes a lamp into the back of Caedus' head, an explosion of color flashing before his eyes on impact. He stumbles forward, dropping the bat, as she leaps onto his back, raking fingernails across his face. He reaches up to grab her by the head and right arm then leans into a hard toss, flinging her into a mounted flat screen TV on the wall...
...as Lycana enters the side room now in wolf form, growling.
A pair of shots ring out.
Bullets slam into the wall, about a man's chest high, expecting Jim, not a low-slung killing machine. Lycana launches herself through the air, a terrified scream cut short into a burble of wetness as her teeth sink into his throat, her momentum carrying them both to the floor. She jerks her head sharply, snapping the man’s neck cleanly...
...Terrible snippets of what these people may have done to Elora, to these and other children, flash before the mind's-eye of Jim as he unleashes fury with the recovered Slugger on the grounded greeter's head...
BANG!
Pigtail recovered enough to pull the trigger.
The bullet hits the carcass as Ly dodges, then leaps again.
BANG!
The shot skims Ly's ribs.
BANG!
It goes awry as the furry missile crashes into her, snapping teeth cutting gashes along her shoulder. They hit the floor, gun skidding away.
She crawls for it, and Ly snatches her pigtail in her teeth, hauling her away, before leaping atop.
Pigtail desperately tries to strangle Ly, fingers grasping the thick pelt, but she is no match for the werewolf’s strength.
CRUNCH!
SNAP!
And it’s over…
...Jim takes a stab in the back with a kitchen knife as he stands with the bat over the motionless body of the greeter and turns wincing in pain, to see the knife-wielding "mom". His visage darkens further...
...The door to the side room opens, and Lycana emerges in too tight shorts and top, having grabbed some clothes from a dresser, hers having been lost during her transformation to the wolf, to see…
…Jim going caveman with the bat on the downed body of "mom".
"Jimmy!"
Lycana takes a few steps forward then halts.
"Jimmy! She's DEAD!"
He ceases the assault and drops the bat, chest heaving. Tears well in his eyes.
"They stole my baby an' we're no closer now than we were knowin' where the fuck she is! Who knows what this scum did t'her, not t'mention whoever it was that retrieved 'er here wearin' MY body! Look how these people treated their OWN kids- The kids! Grab the sheets an' blankets off the mattress an' cover the bodies Tav."
As she does so, Jim heads for the kids' room...emerging 30 seconds later with the four unwashed urchins (ranging in ages from 6 to 11 by the looks of them) in tow.
"I know someone who can take them...care for them like they should've been."
"Good... Take 'em outside fer now. I'll clean this up."
---MINUTES LATER---
Jim steps towards Lycana and the kids, flames beginning to spew from several of the home's windows.
"What about your property in there??"
"Who cares. Get us outta here Tavs..."
A wave of hands, an incantation...and the six vanish in a flash of amber light.
"Weeeeeell weeeeell well...if it ain't Ronnie Strader an' Jenny Myst.
'Sup cunts, yer salty Sub cucks ain't got the testosterone t' face me themselves?"
"And get beaten again like the useless eunuchs they are? Not likely."
"S'ok, you an' I are happy t' rip balls off the women wearin' the wangs in their families, amirite?"
"Naturally.
One day the boys may have their Dom-mommies pluck their micropenises from their purses and strap on to face us...but I doubt it. Until then, we'll send their dick-clit cows back licking their wounds, looking to be suckled back into thinking they actually matter. The misplaced grandiosity of these two is unbelievable, especially Strader.”
"How izzit'cha think we should be intimidated by ya, Ronnie? Fear ya. Respect'cha. As if Veronica Strader synonymous wit', oh, say Chris Page. James Raven.
Jim.
Caedus.
Wait. The hell I'm talkin' 'bout?
I overlooked the accomplishments y'carved-out not only in the biz but HERE in the WGWF where it counts!! l-o-l...Fuck whatcha done "did" elsewhere, 'specially out in OCW where erryone knows y'were blowin' Marcus not only fer administrative power but "taking" that Transatlantic title after champ Betsy Granger got booted in "The Great Purge". Braggin' 'bout a reign durin' the company privatization barrin' any REAL talent from competin'...
You're fuckin' pathetic.
Anyway...
Y'still somehow think it's wise t'come stormin' in at ME wit' yer history 'a minimal success via shady politickin' elsewhere an' NONE whatsoever HERE?"
“Her Twitter profile claims she's a WGWF Superstar... She must've forgotten it was VICTORIA who was here with her not at all superstar material one and one win loss record and by Ronnie's own timeline, they had separate bodies. Whoops.”
"You're one helluva clusterfuck, Veronica. Answers the question 'a how y'have the balls t'say this on Twitter 'bout me..."
"Yeah. Avoid taggin' me, pussy. Fake-tough twat. Y'ain't buryin' anyone but'cherself, deluded dipshit. Best control that temper in the match, its alREADY gotcher fishy-fuckhole in a heap 'a trouble facin' two truly accomplished names."
“You probably don’t know me, and by the end of this, you’ll wish you still didn’t. Ended FIGHTING LEGEND Chris Page’s undefeated streak. Won the Xtreme from Alias, ending his streak. Beat Mark Flynn while Tag Champ…I’m a star killer…and now, here in the WGWF? I debuted by delivering the dropkick that saved Dolly, allowing Jim to force the surrender and the win for Team Caedus. And that’s only the start for ME…”
"An' let's ignore the fact I'm already a legend in this business wit' 27 years an' 32 championships under my belt. HERE I've accumulated victories over more than half the roster-- INCLUDIN' Vaughn --an' this only my sixth bout. The word outmatched don't approach yer predicament y'remedial rook'."
"You think Strader pays attention to that? She doesn't even know who was in this promotion before, her or Vee.
Where's your head, Ronnie, aside of up Outcast's puckered anus? Certainly not in the game, or anywhere approaching rationality...for awhile now. Not picking Jenny as tag partner."
"Well hell, Ly, clearly Ronnies is one 'r both 'a two things; a liar AND/OR-- considerin' she an' Vee used t'share the same body as far as "psyches" go --a clueless schizophrenic fuck-up.
Now Jenny Myst however, she's DEFINITIVELY a liar. Let's take a gander at 'er official WGWF company site bio..."
"On the surface- if y'didn't know this dogshit-hockin' hack -nothin' seems sketchy, right? Yeah, well, I DO know this four-legged fib-flippin' fuckstick. Three time Bombshell/Shootin' Star Champ were ya Jen? Let'see about that..."
"Looks t'me like ATTYs the one who was 3x. At least y'were still "THE LONGEST REIGNING" at 101 days though..."
"Wooooooooooow...Nyx. Nephthys. 133 days as THE LONGEST REIGNING.
Jenny--"
"Or are ya? I mean, it COULD jus' be you're THAT much'uva duncecap y'jus' can't keep track of aaaaaaaall those achievements. Like winnin' a 24/7 briefcase..."
"Shameless BULLSHITTER...an' unlike my 2nd Case bein' unlisted via timin' out wit'out use, YOU simply NEVER won one. Another inaccuracy. Twice is a coincidence but thrice is a pattern. That pattern bein' PATHOLOGICALLY LYING. It's established now, ya've set out t'falsely pad yer own accolades list...an' y'did so because y'KNOW y'got NO weight t'yer "ability". Even yer other title reigns are by an' large painted wit' weak competition. Y'aint got the skill t'defeat Lycana and Jim Caedus. Yer BOTH as disconnected from reality as it can get, s'mindblowin'."
"Everytime I think Myst can't get any worse, I'm proven wrong. Did you hear what that ditzy dumbshit said in the WGWF HQ Halls?"
"Hey...Jenny....are you BLIND as well as feebleminded?"
"How do you expect to beat me when you don't even RECOGNIZE me, you utter imbecile? I will say, I almost didn't recognize YOU from the front...I'm more accustomed to seeing your ass end, running like the weakling you are. You were terrified of me whenever I showed up, scurrying like a roach in the light until you were trapped and we FINALLY had the SINGLE match we ever squared off in. Remember? Alias picked you for a tag partner and you...well, you near pulled a JMont and pissed yourself in front of everyone."
"As far as the match itself went, HE carried you and HE got the pin...on the loser who was weighing me down, NOT me. Do you recall what happened after that? Alias got snuffed. And YOU...you did what you do best: you tuck tits and trot away like you ALWAYS do when things get too hot to handle.
That's exactly why your "bragging rights", if you can call them that, revolve around you being cowardly and pathetically elementary. How many "legitimate" reigns came about by way of one-off enhancement talent like Puddles? The guy begged the X champ at the time to kick out of his admittedly JOKE pin attempt in the 24/7 Halls and when he got stuck with the strap, he gave it to you; which was a loserly gifting you were more than happy to jump on faster than Chaos' dinky dingaling.
Nothing about you is "Queen", your "Highness of Violence". Especially not when it came to what defined you: the Shooting Star Championship. You weren't the woman who held it the most times, you weren't the longest reigning. Jesus, Jen, you were tied for third place at best. The biggest name you ever took a title from is Chris Page...but everyone knows he handed you the TV Title on his way out. You're a charity case, cunt and you'll never be anything more than that.
Atara is correct in what she said to you, beating you means nothing. Because you ARE nothing. Nothing but a reason for your opponents to take a shot of penicillin and follow that up with a scalding hot shower to scrub the subpar away with steel wool once they've wrecked you in the ring. Much like you and your man Chaos wrecked your own careers and credibility simply by opening your mouths and trying. Is it any wonder the two of you exist as a pair of the biggest punchlines in this business? You ARE aware that no one likes you, right? You make us all cringe every time you pop up on camera, in the halls, in the promotion meetings. Your jokes never land, your insults command eyerolls and you attempt to rip on my appearance while you skip around looking like a clown hooker."
"Speakin' 'a rippin' on appearances an' such, Jenny, how izzit'cha keep callin' me a redneck an' hillbilly?
Hey cameraman, get up nice an' close so this incompetent twat can hear me better..."
"Of course, knowin' you an' the amount 'a semen y'got pumped into those eardrums wit' all the mind-fuckin' I've been poundin' ya wit', I expect you'll commence t'ignorin' the truth.
Hm? "What mind-fuckin'," y'ask? Roll the clip..."
"That right there. Y'know, when I was mindin' my own business down at HQ an' y'came up tryna put me an' Ly on blast. Y'were so clueless as t'my method there: 'Mr. One Word Answer' was clearly goadin' y'on t' keep handin' us promo fodder, fuck-o. It's that easy t'manipulate'cha. You, Jennifer Myst, actin' like the boss-bitch struttin' 'round blowin' smoke an' issuin' threats y'can't POSSIBLY believe you're gonna deliver on. Yer batshit crazy, y'wannabe ball-buster.
Beat Lycana...an' ME? You an' I been down that road before, Myst. XWF War Games 2017. Broke ya. Beat'cha. Y'even helped my team win y'dizzy dullard dumpster-fire.
Christ, that syphilitic brain 'a yers is degeneratin' t' levels far beyond the need t'retire. Y'cant hear, see, speak or even THINK straight-- how're y'even cleared t'compete!? If I had a MODICUM 'a compassion fer yer sitch y'might stand a chance 'a not gettin' carted out on a stretcher after the match. But I don't. Not fer you. Not fer the type 'a person y'are in AN' out 'a the ring. Y'deserve t'get crippled. Deserve hospitalization. So hell wit' it, you're fucked. Im'a kick off between those legs an' into yer snail-trailin' snatch so hard I split'cha in half vertically."
"I swear to God, with everything we've uncovered in scouting our opponents, these two must be on drugs.
And very well could be given Strader is involved. She's got a bit of history with encouraging people to push a little party powder up their nose. Her cameraman Harold for one..."
"...and that's obviously why Outcast gravitated towards her. So drunk and twacked out, he didn't care what he was dicking down for drugs until he hit the lottery in Ronnie for schedules I, II and III heaven, OCW straps and an in with the brass. Now he's all saddled and bridled with a bit in his mouth like a pack mule and Veronica Strader, flagrantly fatuous fuckwit that she is, is going to be marrying him.
Hey Ronnie...do you remember what happened to the LAST Mrs. Cain?
You're no different than those hopeless whores who fall in love with those disgusting and justifiably imprisoned inmates serving time for unforgivable crimes. But you consider yourself an "anti-heroine" as displayed on your official WGWF promotion bio?
There's nothing anti-HEROINe about you, you piece of absolute garbage, and it's damn near concrete now: you ARE just as much of a drug-addled loser as your future hubby. Occam's Razor; the simplest explanation is the truth. It explains how you'd be so incredibly foolish to seek Jimmy Caedus out as someone you think you're going to exact revenge on. Signing on here, where Straders fail half the time, enlisting Jenny Myst to align yourself with."
"Well, when you're right you're right, Ly. An' if Ronnie "The Scorpion" Strader ain't yet regrettin' 'er decision-- ESPECIALLY teamin' wit' Jenny --she will be by the time she's seen jus' how unreliable an' incapable Myst truly is when in the ring wit' proven top tier talent.
But yo, Jenny 'erself gonna feel the same way when she sees jus' how off 'er aim was as usual when Strader fails t'deliver as well.
All ya've made thus far are egregious errors, Ronnie. Ya've allowed yer mentally unstable dope fer brains t' trick y'inta thinkin' yer sum'in special in this business. Ya've allowed yer pride t' convince ya you're somehow on the same level as not only Lycana...but a legend like me. Ya've overestimated yerself an' underestimated US... An' now, yer ego gonna cost you. That fat fuckin' mouth an' dime-a-dozen boilerplate bitch attitude won't get'choo a goddamn thing but that stick already stuck up yer brown-eye blasted so much further in it'll stab up through yer skull. An' like plantin' a flag, we'll be tyin' a "LYCAEDUS" banner upon it...'cause
W
E
O
W
N
Y
O
U
y'unbeLIEVABLY arrogant god-complex havin' horses-ass.
Fuck you, yer man, AN' that already-assuredly-opiate-addicted-offspring that'cha sucked outta Outcast, snowballed into 'is mouth an' 'e spat back out inta that yawnin' yuck-cavern y'later shat it out of. Fuck yer entire clan. Knox-Strader "tough" is WGWF PUSSY.
Call yerself The Scorpion?
R-O-F-L
Stick wit' the insects.
Yer facin' apex predators now, y'neverwas.
There's only one outcome..."
The words were seared into his brain at this point, yet he sat there, reading the burner-borne untraceable text over and over again.
A heavy sigh escapes him as he slumps further down on the headboard, running a hand over his face.
“Jimmy?” Jim looks up at Lycana, hovering uncertainly in the doorway of his bedroom. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah girl, I’m…” he pauses, a silent war waging within. Finally, an exhalation. “No.”
Lycana makes her way over, settling down on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to gently touch his thigh. “Tell me.”
The story pours out, filling her in on all the details of the last months of agony, leaving none of the gory specifics out...
adambarker1981.proboards.com/thread/16056/res-honey-home
adambarker1981.proboards.com/thread/16069/res-2-best-served-cold
“...I need your help Tavvy.”
“Jesus Jimmy…” her eyes wide, Ly scoots closer, tugging him in for a hug. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? You know how I feel about kids.”
"I wanted t' go thru "normal" channels; cops, FBI, private investigators…but they ain't found shit. I needja, girl. There's gotta be sum'in you can do."
“I…I’m just learning, and I’m not Arcana Jimmy. But let’s try a locator spell. Do you have anything of hers that she has a connection to?”
Jim thinks for a moment, then launches off the bed and out of the room, calling over his shoulder.. “Hol’ on.”
He returns moments later, with a couple colorful objects cradled in his large hand. He sets them down on the mattress, revealing two wrist rattles and a plush sloth pacifier clip.
“She called ‘im Slothy…” Jim’s voice cracks, tears flooding his eyes as he tenderly runs a thumb over it.
Lycana gives his hand a squeeze, her own vision getting misty. “I’ll find her. I promise.”
Ly settles her fingers on them, closing her eyes and starting a soft chant. A soft pink glow starts, encompassing the toys and Ly’s hands. All of a sudden, she pulls back, looking ill.
“Shit…Jimmy…there's thousands of them.”
“Of?”
“Kids. I could only see from a distance…there’s thousands. Clusters of them. All over a massive area.”
“What about Elora?”
“I could only get the vague area. I sense…auras but I can’t pinpoint hers. I need a stronger connection.” She thinks for a minute. “Hold still!”
“What?”
“You’re her father, nothing stronger than that.”
Ly offers a small smile, then steps forward and lightly lays her palms flat on his chest, starting the incantation again. Jim jerks slightly as the pink glow returns.
“Invenient eam!”
Small flashes of teal intermingle in the glow as Lycana goes quiet, deep furrows appearing on her brow as she concentrates. Her eyes suddenly fly open. “I found her!”
“Where!??”
“Hang on.”
Another incantation. Fluid hand motions. Amber tracers in the air and..
POOF!
Our duo arrives, crash landing through the wooden roof of a shed in a heap together.
“I’m getting better at it.”
“At least y’got us both in the same place..”
They untangle their limbs and peer out from their partially concealed location, looking across the sand at the low, unassuming, tan colored ranch with emerald green trim.
"This looks like the high desert. She was this close the whole time…"
Jim rises, heading for the house. Lycana hisses out--
“What’s the plan Jimmy?”
"Go 'round back an' make sure no one leaves."
"That's not a plan!"
He doesn't respond as he quickly strides over–
--and slams his fist repeatedly on the security gate.
A male voice sounds within, irritation evident in his tone, followed by a clatter and cursing. In his periphery Jim spies Lycana heading for the opposite side of the domicile. Moments later the peep hole darkens and the voice queries-
"Who..."
The deadbolt unlocks-- Jim preparing to launch into an assault --and the inner door swings open, an obvious tweaker opening the security gate.
"Hey boss, what's going on? Got another job for us?"
Caedus hesitates.
"Come in."
Eyes narrowing in confusion, Jim steps past him and enters.
Instantly the stink of acrid sprack smoke hits his nostrils. The interior is a mess, random objects strewn throughout the front room, a kingsize mattress on the floor bearing sheets and pillows darkened from body soil, a couch and a La-Z-Boy with two females--
--and two other males (all underweight and in similar condition to the greeter) occupying them. The greeter himself heads for the couch and plops down, accepting an "oil burner" from one of the women. He ignites a Bic beneath the bowl and rolls the pookie stem, inhaling the thick white smoke before passing and exhaling.
"Sure could use another job."
"Job?"
"Yessir, that hundred k went quick."
"No one wants any of that other crap you let us take either. Not even those belts," one of the women adds rudely. "Pawn shops won't touch 'em."
"Belts?"
She nods to the corner...where Jim spots all 11 missing XWF championships he'd earned and had on display in his home. His eyes widen as realization hits...these people had ransacked his home while "The Other" piloted his body during his soul's journey in the afterlife. Of course; why else would Lycana have sensed traces of his daughter's aura here?
"Where...is...Elora," he asks, failing to mask the menace in his tone.
"Hm? Who's Elora?"
"The little girl in that house."
The greeter looks confused. "Well...that was the job, boss, remember? Take the girl and whatever else we wanted? I mean, you picked her up yourself later that same day."
Jim can't believe what he's hearing. His life had truly been dismantled by "The Other" wearing his reanimated corpse.
"You got a shit memory dude."
The greeter elbows her. "Shuttup bitch." He looks to Caedus. "We got other kids too. We find them here and there. If you want any for...whatever...I'll give you a good price."
Shock hits Jim in response to the implications and as if on cue, the voices of young children sound from a room to his right before a six year old girl runs out, commanding Jim's attention.
"Mom-"
"We're talking business you lil' shit," mom barks before hitting the pookie, "shut the fuck up!" The child looks down sadly. Jim slowly turns his gaze back to the group, his eyes glazing over.
"So...you want any? We got three."
Exhale of smoke. "Four. I'm at my wit's end with that brat there. Should've gotten her aborted, I'll trade her for a pack of smokes at this point."
The tweakers laugh.
Out back, Lycana's jaw drops as a chill runs down her spine, her heightened hearing picking up all that's being said inside. Her heart begins to pound in dread anticipation...this won't end well.
Back inside, Jim is shaking with rage as the tweakers continue to laugh. His vision alters; the borders of his sight bleed inward with black, framing these...demons...as the prior hesitation and control within him swiftly fades.
He glances down to see a short crowbar at his feet. He looks to the little girl--
"Get in your room with the others and lock the door."
--then as she retreats, stoops to snatch, straightens and hurls with all his might. It pinwheels end over end and nails the male in the La-Z-Boy directly in the nose with a metallic -KLANG-, breaking it. He hollers in pain, hands raising to his face out of instinct, for the moment incapacitated.
As the others react, the greeter grabbing the crowbar, Jim eyes a baseball bat lying on the mattress, plucks it up and advances on La-Z-Boy, "mom" and the greeter as the other woman and man hop up, dashing into the side room to his left, slamming and locking the door behind them...
...Alerting Lycana outside. She ducks down, craning her neck to peek in the barred window, spying a messy pigtailed blonde and her scarecrow counterpart. Her eyes narrow as they scramble around the room, wondering what they're doing.
The answer comes with a CLICK, as magazines are shoved into semi-automatic pistols, the CH-CHINK of racking following.
Alarm shoots through her. She has to get in. She reaches up to tug on the bars...they don't budge. Quickly she creeps around the near corner to the end of the house, trying again on the bars of the side room bathroom window, discovering these to be shoddily installed and the welded frame coming loose from the wall in her hands...
...Unlike the bat Jim is wielding with an iron grip, squaring off with the greeter. La-Z-Boy now lies on the floor, his skull severely fractured from an incredibly hard bat bludgeoning.
The greeter lunges, catching Jim in the side with the crowbar. Jim grunts in pain before angrily headbutting him. He backpedals and catches a swing of the Louisville Slugger to the temple, dropping.
-CRASH-
"Mom" smashes a lamp into the back of Caedus' head, an explosion of color flashing before his eyes on impact. He stumbles forward, dropping the bat, as she leaps onto his back, raking fingernails across his face. He reaches up to grab her by the head and right arm then leans into a hard toss, flinging her into a mounted flat screen TV on the wall...
...as Lycana enters the side room now in wolf form, growling.
A pair of shots ring out.
Bullets slam into the wall, about a man's chest high, expecting Jim, not a low-slung killing machine. Lycana launches herself through the air, a terrified scream cut short into a burble of wetness as her teeth sink into his throat, her momentum carrying them both to the floor. She jerks her head sharply, snapping the man’s neck cleanly...
...Terrible snippets of what these people may have done to Elora, to these and other children, flash before the mind's-eye of Jim as he unleashes fury with the recovered Slugger on the grounded greeter's head...
BANG!
Pigtail recovered enough to pull the trigger.
The bullet hits the carcass as Ly dodges, then leaps again.
BANG!
The shot skims Ly's ribs.
BANG!
It goes awry as the furry missile crashes into her, snapping teeth cutting gashes along her shoulder. They hit the floor, gun skidding away.
She crawls for it, and Ly snatches her pigtail in her teeth, hauling her away, before leaping atop.
Pigtail desperately tries to strangle Ly, fingers grasping the thick pelt, but she is no match for the werewolf’s strength.
CRUNCH!
SNAP!
And it’s over…
...Jim takes a stab in the back with a kitchen knife as he stands with the bat over the motionless body of the greeter and turns wincing in pain, to see the knife-wielding "mom". His visage darkens further...
...The door to the side room opens, and Lycana emerges in too tight shorts and top, having grabbed some clothes from a dresser, hers having been lost during her transformation to the wolf, to see…
…Jim going caveman with the bat on the downed body of "mom".
"Jimmy!"
Lycana takes a few steps forward then halts.
"Jimmy! She's DEAD!"
He ceases the assault and drops the bat, chest heaving. Tears well in his eyes.
"They stole my baby an' we're no closer now than we were knowin' where the fuck she is! Who knows what this scum did t'her, not t'mention whoever it was that retrieved 'er here wearin' MY body! Look how these people treated their OWN kids- The kids! Grab the sheets an' blankets off the mattress an' cover the bodies Tav."
As she does so, Jim heads for the kids' room...emerging 30 seconds later with the four unwashed urchins (ranging in ages from 6 to 11 by the looks of them) in tow.
"I know someone who can take them...care for them like they should've been."
"Good... Take 'em outside fer now. I'll clean this up."
---MINUTES LATER---
Jim steps towards Lycana and the kids, flames beginning to spew from several of the home's windows.
"What about your property in there??"
"Who cares. Get us outta here Tavs..."
A wave of hands, an incantation...and the six vanish in a flash of amber light.
"Weeeeeell weeeeell well...if it ain't Ronnie Strader an' Jenny Myst.
'Sup cunts, yer salty Sub cucks ain't got the testosterone t' face me themselves?"
"And get beaten again like the useless eunuchs they are? Not likely."
"S'ok, you an' I are happy t' rip balls off the women wearin' the wangs in their families, amirite?"
"Naturally.
One day the boys may have their Dom-mommies pluck their micropenises from their purses and strap on to face us...but I doubt it. Until then, we'll send their dick-clit cows back licking their wounds, looking to be suckled back into thinking they actually matter. The misplaced grandiosity of these two is unbelievable, especially Strader.”
"How izzit'cha think we should be intimidated by ya, Ronnie? Fear ya. Respect'cha. As if Veronica Strader synonymous wit', oh, say Chris Page. James Raven.
Jim.
Caedus.
Wait. The hell I'm talkin' 'bout?
I overlooked the accomplishments y'carved-out not only in the biz but HERE in the WGWF where it counts!! l-o-l...Fuck whatcha done "did" elsewhere, 'specially out in OCW where erryone knows y'were blowin' Marcus not only fer administrative power but "taking" that Transatlantic title after champ Betsy Granger got booted in "The Great Purge". Braggin' 'bout a reign durin' the company privatization barrin' any REAL talent from competin'...
You're fuckin' pathetic.
Anyway...
Y'still somehow think it's wise t'come stormin' in at ME wit' yer history 'a minimal success via shady politickin' elsewhere an' NONE whatsoever HERE?"
“Her Twitter profile claims she's a WGWF Superstar... She must've forgotten it was VICTORIA who was here with her not at all superstar material one and one win loss record and by Ronnie's own timeline, they had separate bodies. Whoops.”
"You're one helluva clusterfuck, Veronica. Answers the question 'a how y'have the balls t'say this on Twitter 'bout me..."
"Yeah. Avoid taggin' me, pussy. Fake-tough twat. Y'ain't buryin' anyone but'cherself, deluded dipshit. Best control that temper in the match, its alREADY gotcher fishy-fuckhole in a heap 'a trouble facin' two truly accomplished names."
“You probably don’t know me, and by the end of this, you’ll wish you still didn’t. Ended FIGHTING LEGEND Chris Page’s undefeated streak. Won the Xtreme from Alias, ending his streak. Beat Mark Flynn while Tag Champ…I’m a star killer…and now, here in the WGWF? I debuted by delivering the dropkick that saved Dolly, allowing Jim to force the surrender and the win for Team Caedus. And that’s only the start for ME…”
"An' let's ignore the fact I'm already a legend in this business wit' 27 years an' 32 championships under my belt. HERE I've accumulated victories over more than half the roster-- INCLUDIN' Vaughn --an' this only my sixth bout. The word outmatched don't approach yer predicament y'remedial rook'."
"You think Strader pays attention to that? She doesn't even know who was in this promotion before, her or Vee.
Where's your head, Ronnie, aside of up Outcast's puckered anus? Certainly not in the game, or anywhere approaching rationality...for awhile now. Not picking Jenny as tag partner."
"Well hell, Ly, clearly Ronnies is one 'r both 'a two things; a liar AND/OR-- considerin' she an' Vee used t'share the same body as far as "psyches" go --a clueless schizophrenic fuck-up.
Now Jenny Myst however, she's DEFINITIVELY a liar. Let's take a gander at 'er official WGWF company site bio..."
"On the surface- if y'didn't know this dogshit-hockin' hack -nothin' seems sketchy, right? Yeah, well, I DO know this four-legged fib-flippin' fuckstick. Three time Bombshell/Shootin' Star Champ were ya Jen? Let'see about that..."
"Looks t'me like ATTYs the one who was 3x. At least y'were still "THE LONGEST REIGNING" at 101 days though..."
"Wooooooooooow...Nyx. Nephthys. 133 days as THE LONGEST REIGNING.
Jenny--"
"Or are ya? I mean, it COULD jus' be you're THAT much'uva duncecap y'jus' can't keep track of aaaaaaaall those achievements. Like winnin' a 24/7 briefcase..."
"Shameless BULLSHITTER...an' unlike my 2nd Case bein' unlisted via timin' out wit'out use, YOU simply NEVER won one. Another inaccuracy. Twice is a coincidence but thrice is a pattern. That pattern bein' PATHOLOGICALLY LYING. It's established now, ya've set out t'falsely pad yer own accolades list...an' y'did so because y'KNOW y'got NO weight t'yer "ability". Even yer other title reigns are by an' large painted wit' weak competition. Y'aint got the skill t'defeat Lycana and Jim Caedus. Yer BOTH as disconnected from reality as it can get, s'mindblowin'."
"Everytime I think Myst can't get any worse, I'm proven wrong. Did you hear what that ditzy dumbshit said in the WGWF HQ Halls?"
"Hey...Jenny....are you BLIND as well as feebleminded?"
"How do you expect to beat me when you don't even RECOGNIZE me, you utter imbecile? I will say, I almost didn't recognize YOU from the front...I'm more accustomed to seeing your ass end, running like the weakling you are. You were terrified of me whenever I showed up, scurrying like a roach in the light until you were trapped and we FINALLY had the SINGLE match we ever squared off in. Remember? Alias picked you for a tag partner and you...well, you near pulled a JMont and pissed yourself in front of everyone."
"As far as the match itself went, HE carried you and HE got the pin...on the loser who was weighing me down, NOT me. Do you recall what happened after that? Alias got snuffed. And YOU...you did what you do best: you tuck tits and trot away like you ALWAYS do when things get too hot to handle.
That's exactly why your "bragging rights", if you can call them that, revolve around you being cowardly and pathetically elementary. How many "legitimate" reigns came about by way of one-off enhancement talent like Puddles? The guy begged the X champ at the time to kick out of his admittedly JOKE pin attempt in the 24/7 Halls and when he got stuck with the strap, he gave it to you; which was a loserly gifting you were more than happy to jump on faster than Chaos' dinky dingaling.
Nothing about you is "Queen", your "Highness of Violence". Especially not when it came to what defined you: the Shooting Star Championship. You weren't the woman who held it the most times, you weren't the longest reigning. Jesus, Jen, you were tied for third place at best. The biggest name you ever took a title from is Chris Page...but everyone knows he handed you the TV Title on his way out. You're a charity case, cunt and you'll never be anything more than that.
Atara is correct in what she said to you, beating you means nothing. Because you ARE nothing. Nothing but a reason for your opponents to take a shot of penicillin and follow that up with a scalding hot shower to scrub the subpar away with steel wool once they've wrecked you in the ring. Much like you and your man Chaos wrecked your own careers and credibility simply by opening your mouths and trying. Is it any wonder the two of you exist as a pair of the biggest punchlines in this business? You ARE aware that no one likes you, right? You make us all cringe every time you pop up on camera, in the halls, in the promotion meetings. Your jokes never land, your insults command eyerolls and you attempt to rip on my appearance while you skip around looking like a clown hooker."
"Speakin' 'a rippin' on appearances an' such, Jenny, how izzit'cha keep callin' me a redneck an' hillbilly?
Hey cameraman, get up nice an' close so this incompetent twat can hear me better..."
"Of course, knowin' you an' the amount 'a semen y'got pumped into those eardrums wit' all the mind-fuckin' I've been poundin' ya wit', I expect you'll commence t'ignorin' the truth.
Hm? "What mind-fuckin'," y'ask? Roll the clip..."
"That right there. Y'know, when I was mindin' my own business down at HQ an' y'came up tryna put me an' Ly on blast. Y'were so clueless as t'my method there: 'Mr. One Word Answer' was clearly goadin' y'on t' keep handin' us promo fodder, fuck-o. It's that easy t'manipulate'cha. You, Jennifer Myst, actin' like the boss-bitch struttin' 'round blowin' smoke an' issuin' threats y'can't POSSIBLY believe you're gonna deliver on. Yer batshit crazy, y'wannabe ball-buster.
Beat Lycana...an' ME? You an' I been down that road before, Myst. XWF War Games 2017. Broke ya. Beat'cha. Y'even helped my team win y'dizzy dullard dumpster-fire.
Christ, that syphilitic brain 'a yers is degeneratin' t' levels far beyond the need t'retire. Y'cant hear, see, speak or even THINK straight-- how're y'even cleared t'compete!? If I had a MODICUM 'a compassion fer yer sitch y'might stand a chance 'a not gettin' carted out on a stretcher after the match. But I don't. Not fer you. Not fer the type 'a person y'are in AN' out 'a the ring. Y'deserve t'get crippled. Deserve hospitalization. So hell wit' it, you're fucked. Im'a kick off between those legs an' into yer snail-trailin' snatch so hard I split'cha in half vertically."
"I swear to God, with everything we've uncovered in scouting our opponents, these two must be on drugs.
And very well could be given Strader is involved. She's got a bit of history with encouraging people to push a little party powder up their nose. Her cameraman Harold for one..."
"...and that's obviously why Outcast gravitated towards her. So drunk and twacked out, he didn't care what he was dicking down for drugs until he hit the lottery in Ronnie for schedules I, II and III heaven, OCW straps and an in with the brass. Now he's all saddled and bridled with a bit in his mouth like a pack mule and Veronica Strader, flagrantly fatuous fuckwit that she is, is going to be marrying him.
Hey Ronnie...do you remember what happened to the LAST Mrs. Cain?
You're no different than those hopeless whores who fall in love with those disgusting and justifiably imprisoned inmates serving time for unforgivable crimes. But you consider yourself an "anti-heroine" as displayed on your official WGWF promotion bio?
There's nothing anti-HEROINe about you, you piece of absolute garbage, and it's damn near concrete now: you ARE just as much of a drug-addled loser as your future hubby. Occam's Razor; the simplest explanation is the truth. It explains how you'd be so incredibly foolish to seek Jimmy Caedus out as someone you think you're going to exact revenge on. Signing on here, where Straders fail half the time, enlisting Jenny Myst to align yourself with."
"Well, when you're right you're right, Ly. An' if Ronnie "The Scorpion" Strader ain't yet regrettin' 'er decision-- ESPECIALLY teamin' wit' Jenny --she will be by the time she's seen jus' how unreliable an' incapable Myst truly is when in the ring wit' proven top tier talent.
But yo, Jenny 'erself gonna feel the same way when she sees jus' how off 'er aim was as usual when Strader fails t'deliver as well.
All ya've made thus far are egregious errors, Ronnie. Ya've allowed yer mentally unstable dope fer brains t' trick y'inta thinkin' yer sum'in special in this business. Ya've allowed yer pride t' convince ya you're somehow on the same level as not only Lycana...but a legend like me. Ya've overestimated yerself an' underestimated US... An' now, yer ego gonna cost you. That fat fuckin' mouth an' dime-a-dozen boilerplate bitch attitude won't get'choo a goddamn thing but that stick already stuck up yer brown-eye blasted so much further in it'll stab up through yer skull. An' like plantin' a flag, we'll be tyin' a "LYCAEDUS" banner upon it...'cause
W
E
O
W
N
Y
O
U
y'unbeLIEVABLY arrogant god-complex havin' horses-ass.
Fuck you, yer man, AN' that already-assuredly-opiate-addicted-offspring that'cha sucked outta Outcast, snowballed into 'is mouth an' 'e spat back out inta that yawnin' yuck-cavern y'later shat it out of. Fuck yer entire clan. Knox-Strader "tough" is WGWF PUSSY.
Call yerself The Scorpion?
R-O-F-L
Stick wit' the insects.
Yer facin' apex predators now, y'neverwas.
There's only one outcome..."