Post by Dante "Vagabond" Coles on Jul 25, 2007 10:58:33 GMT -5
The walk back seemed chirpier as Dante followed the same route he had originally taken. Even though it was possibly darker out now then it had been earlier, everything was brighter. The shadow that had settled over his mind, the shadow of guilt and lust for revenge, was somewhat alleviated. He knew it would never be gone until he finally killed Johnny and Roger, but for now it was leaving him alone.
The street lights were like beacons, beckoning him along the road. Little waypoints on a journey through darkness. Dante had always thought of them so, but now they seemed even more welcoming. He had to resist the urge to just linger under one; instead he just rushed on through the little islands of light.
The Two were keeping the cops away from him, that was true, but he never knew when they would decide he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. This game they were playing with them could get boring at any moment, and Dante didn’t want to be caught off guard when it did. Every cop car he saw coming down the road caused him to fade into the darkest of shadows and pull the brim of his hat down low.
It wasn’t particularly stressful. He was used to dodging cops now, had been doing so most of his life. Not that he was wanted back then, but they had always made him nervous. This was partially due to the fact that whenever he needed the money he stole something of value from those who didn’t need it. He sometimes fancied himself a modern version of Robin Hood; steal from the rich, not from the poor. Sure, it was not the same as the original, but those ideals didn’t get one far these days. It was all about money.
The Homeland Hotel rose up before him and he realized he had been walking while thinking all this time. It was something he used to do all the time as he walked between towns, along those highways where there’s nothing worth paying attention to. More recently, however, he had found himself more alert, watching every car as it passed him and every corner he passed.
It was empty, which was to be expected. He entered the lobby and sat down on one of the fine leather chairs they supplied. There were two leather chairs, one cushioned and a sofa in the lobby, all gathered around an artificial fire. Dante was sure if the hotel could have, they would have had a real fire burning there; they seemed to enjoy authenticity and spared no expense for their customers.
Johnny and Roger had been rather quiet. They had blatantly thrown out there who their man was, had given him the next breadcrumb, and he was sure they knew where he was. They always seemed to be on top of things, Dante had given up trying to figure out how. Of course he would have to find out eventually. In order to beat the Two, he would need to find a blind spot; someplace he can go; something he can do so that they don’t know what he’s doing.
Suddenly the payphone, installed by the front entrance, rang. It was the standard style payphone, really standing out in this hotel where everything was carefully selected to fit, created a wonderful decor. Dante eyed it carefully, considering whether or not to answer it.
He glanced at a clock that hung on the wall. It was rust color with a white face, the black hands looking so delicate that Dante would have been afraid to wind them. Instead of numbers, roman numerals surrounded the perimeter, just touched by the minute hand and reached for by the hour hand. There was no second hand, just a swinging pendulum that hung from the clock. It read 4:53.
Slowly he got up, taking a few cautious steps towards it. There was something strange about a ringing payphone. Dante knew he should just let it ring, yet he felt compelled to answer it. As he approached it, the ringing didn’t stop. His hand clasped firmly around the cheap plastic receiver, letting it ring a couple more times. Whoever was on the other end, they weren’t hanging up. The face of the payphone, with all the emergency numbers and different ways of paying for calls, stared blankly at him. The blue text on the screen scrolled, confused and wondering why it was ringing.
He picked it up and raised the receiver to his ear. As soon as he got it there, the voice on the other end spoke. Before the first word even finished, Dante felt the rage build up in him again, his knuckles going white as he gripped the plastic receiver tightly.
“Good morning, Mr. Farren,” started Roger. “or should I say Mr. Coles? I’m surprised you picked it, after all, that was Annab-“
“What do you want?” Dante cut him off. He wouldn’t stand that filthy mouth to speak her name, to defile and violate her with the British accent he carried so heavily.
“Am I not allowed to say ‘ello to my favourite game?” Roger said, and Dante could tell simply by his tone that the man was smirking on the other end. He could picture it so clearly in his head, the goatee on the man’s chin deforming as his face contorted; the man’s hair combed perfectly and undergoing intensive care. What stood out most were those eyes, piercing, confident, able to look right into the soul they look at and open them like a book.
“No.”
“Well then I will cut straight to business,” Roger continued. The Two never seemed to care much what the other party in their conversations had to say; they probably already knew what the response to each of their comments would be anyway. “and that being the OWF.”
“Is this about your man, Steele?” Dante decided to throw it right out there. He knew who their man was. Perhaps it would catch them off guard, show momentary weakness. But that was only hopes.
“Oh no, this is about you. Your next match is against the Lone Wolf, the same opponent Steele fought on the last card. Now, we’re going to be generous and supply you with similar toys, give you a little advantage.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Well that too bad. After your victory against Dr. Karate we thought you’d want to continue winning; possibly to get our attention? Either way, the toys will be supplied, and you’ll be able to find them. Good Luck, Mr. Farren.”
The line went dead.
Dante slammed the receiver back down onto the hook so hard he saw white strain marks appear on the plastic, but he didn’t care. The Two were now treating him as if he was their man in the ring. He couldn’t believe they’d get so cocky, so brazen. The rage deep down inside him, the burning anger, flared as more fuel was added to it.
He swore to himself there that he wouldn’t take their help, even if it cost him the match. He could live with losing. Lone Wolf seemed like a formidable opponent. But he would never be able to live with himself if he took their help now. It would be a disgrace to the mission he had taken upon himself and to the memory of Annabelle.
He knew now he wouldn’t just kill them quickly; he would make them feel it.
The street lights were like beacons, beckoning him along the road. Little waypoints on a journey through darkness. Dante had always thought of them so, but now they seemed even more welcoming. He had to resist the urge to just linger under one; instead he just rushed on through the little islands of light.
The Two were keeping the cops away from him, that was true, but he never knew when they would decide he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. This game they were playing with them could get boring at any moment, and Dante didn’t want to be caught off guard when it did. Every cop car he saw coming down the road caused him to fade into the darkest of shadows and pull the brim of his hat down low.
It wasn’t particularly stressful. He was used to dodging cops now, had been doing so most of his life. Not that he was wanted back then, but they had always made him nervous. This was partially due to the fact that whenever he needed the money he stole something of value from those who didn’t need it. He sometimes fancied himself a modern version of Robin Hood; steal from the rich, not from the poor. Sure, it was not the same as the original, but those ideals didn’t get one far these days. It was all about money.
The Homeland Hotel rose up before him and he realized he had been walking while thinking all this time. It was something he used to do all the time as he walked between towns, along those highways where there’s nothing worth paying attention to. More recently, however, he had found himself more alert, watching every car as it passed him and every corner he passed.
It was empty, which was to be expected. He entered the lobby and sat down on one of the fine leather chairs they supplied. There were two leather chairs, one cushioned and a sofa in the lobby, all gathered around an artificial fire. Dante was sure if the hotel could have, they would have had a real fire burning there; they seemed to enjoy authenticity and spared no expense for their customers.
Johnny and Roger had been rather quiet. They had blatantly thrown out there who their man was, had given him the next breadcrumb, and he was sure they knew where he was. They always seemed to be on top of things, Dante had given up trying to figure out how. Of course he would have to find out eventually. In order to beat the Two, he would need to find a blind spot; someplace he can go; something he can do so that they don’t know what he’s doing.
Suddenly the payphone, installed by the front entrance, rang. It was the standard style payphone, really standing out in this hotel where everything was carefully selected to fit, created a wonderful decor. Dante eyed it carefully, considering whether or not to answer it.
He glanced at a clock that hung on the wall. It was rust color with a white face, the black hands looking so delicate that Dante would have been afraid to wind them. Instead of numbers, roman numerals surrounded the perimeter, just touched by the minute hand and reached for by the hour hand. There was no second hand, just a swinging pendulum that hung from the clock. It read 4:53.
Slowly he got up, taking a few cautious steps towards it. There was something strange about a ringing payphone. Dante knew he should just let it ring, yet he felt compelled to answer it. As he approached it, the ringing didn’t stop. His hand clasped firmly around the cheap plastic receiver, letting it ring a couple more times. Whoever was on the other end, they weren’t hanging up. The face of the payphone, with all the emergency numbers and different ways of paying for calls, stared blankly at him. The blue text on the screen scrolled, confused and wondering why it was ringing.
He picked it up and raised the receiver to his ear. As soon as he got it there, the voice on the other end spoke. Before the first word even finished, Dante felt the rage build up in him again, his knuckles going white as he gripped the plastic receiver tightly.
“Good morning, Mr. Farren,” started Roger. “or should I say Mr. Coles? I’m surprised you picked it, after all, that was Annab-“
“What do you want?” Dante cut him off. He wouldn’t stand that filthy mouth to speak her name, to defile and violate her with the British accent he carried so heavily.
“Am I not allowed to say ‘ello to my favourite game?” Roger said, and Dante could tell simply by his tone that the man was smirking on the other end. He could picture it so clearly in his head, the goatee on the man’s chin deforming as his face contorted; the man’s hair combed perfectly and undergoing intensive care. What stood out most were those eyes, piercing, confident, able to look right into the soul they look at and open them like a book.
“No.”
“Well then I will cut straight to business,” Roger continued. The Two never seemed to care much what the other party in their conversations had to say; they probably already knew what the response to each of their comments would be anyway. “and that being the OWF.”
“Is this about your man, Steele?” Dante decided to throw it right out there. He knew who their man was. Perhaps it would catch them off guard, show momentary weakness. But that was only hopes.
“Oh no, this is about you. Your next match is against the Lone Wolf, the same opponent Steele fought on the last card. Now, we’re going to be generous and supply you with similar toys, give you a little advantage.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Well that too bad. After your victory against Dr. Karate we thought you’d want to continue winning; possibly to get our attention? Either way, the toys will be supplied, and you’ll be able to find them. Good Luck, Mr. Farren.”
The line went dead.
Dante slammed the receiver back down onto the hook so hard he saw white strain marks appear on the plastic, but he didn’t care. The Two were now treating him as if he was their man in the ring. He couldn’t believe they’d get so cocky, so brazen. The rage deep down inside him, the burning anger, flared as more fuel was added to it.
He swore to himself there that he wouldn’t take their help, even if it cost him the match. He could live with losing. Lone Wolf seemed like a formidable opponent. But he would never be able to live with himself if he took their help now. It would be a disgrace to the mission he had taken upon himself and to the memory of Annabelle.
He knew now he wouldn’t just kill them quickly; he would make them feel it.
