[Damien, for Long] Queen of Sorrow
Feb 19, 2022 23:22:55 GMT -5
BRAVE1, SWAT eFed, and 1 more like this
Post by Old Line Jeff on Feb 19, 2022 23:22:55 GMT -5
The day was sunny, but the wind whipping off the Halifax harbor was brutally cold. Daeriq Damien, a native of Minneapolis himself, was more conditioned to the wind and cold than many, but he still shoved his hands in his pockets. He glanced to his side. Kirsty McKinney was struggling, wrapped up in a Carhart jacket, scarf, and thermal tights, and still shivering.
Damien was shivering, but it had less to do with the cold.
He’d received the message to head to the Halifax docks, and to do so immediately. He’d known who it was, and he knew what it was about, and he knew he didn’t have good news for her.
The shadow of a woman in a leather duster stretched away from them, out over the ocean, a inky blot on blue.
“He’s failing.”
The woman’s voice was icy.
Damien cringed. He felt Kirsty McKinney’s gaze on him. She was puzzled, put out, wondering where his customary excessive self-confidence was.
Well, she didn’t know what the hell was going on, he told himself.
It’s a balancing game, he thought. Let her in on it - not all of it, just enough to let her get hooked. Bring her in too fast and she might get scared off, or worse, fail to take it seriously.
“So the question remains, Daeriq. What are you going to do about it?”
He took a deep breath.
The woman was looking away from him, out to sea. Her leather trenchcoat flapped a bit in the wind, but it was snugly buckled around her waist.
“Well, the first thing is to try and light a fire under his-”
“I’m not talking about Ronnie Long.” she interrupted.
“You mean Jeff Andrews?”
She breathed out, quietly. Then. “He said January 2022. It’s halfway through February.”
“Look.” Damien licked his lips. “I know Jeff’s been quiet about it for his own reasons, but you know he’s had some deaths in his family, like, beyond pro wrestling, beyond all this?”
And the woman whipped around to fix one eye on him.
“That. Is not. My concern.” Her voice grew quieter as she took a step towards Damien. “These things that I’ve been working for, that I’ve spent the last fifteen years working towards, ever since he let me free.”
The reason it was so hard to meet her eyes, Damien thought, was because she only had one, and it was an unnatural shade of pale blue, almost white. And that quarter of her face, around her left eye, was the only part of her face he could see.
The rest was hidden by a mask, and if the skeleton jaw full of shark’s teeth didn’t unnerve him, the blot that covered her right eye was blood red.
“When someone makes a deal with me, and I promise them that I can fix what was broken…”
And she grabbed his arm, the bad one, right by the elbow, through the brace, and at the same time, grabbed Kirsty around the neck, lifting the farm girl up onto her tiptoes.
“And then they renege…”
She twisted, bringing Damien to his knees with a wheeze of pain.
“I still expect what was offered to me.”
She let go. Damien fell to his back, clutching his arm to his stomach, as she turned to Kirsty, still dangling at the end of her arm.
“Regardless of who provides it.”
And she dropped McKinney, who sank to her knees next to her fallen mentor.
“Leave me.”
Damien knew when to listen. Collecting himself as best he could, he shook his head at McKinney, then set off down the pier towards land at the quickest walk he could manage.
McKinney’s eyes were big as she rubbed the red marks on her throat.
“Who the hell is that?”
Damien sighed. “You know, I don’t know her actual name. But she was in Andrews*Promotions, and back then, she wanted us to call her Queen of Sorrow. That was all pro wrestling stuff though. Away from it all, I just don’t know.”
McKinney stayed quiet, and after a bit, Damien continued.
“But sometimes you talk to someone, and you think it’s just a harmless chat, and then they tell you that you’ve agreed to something, and they have proof that it’s binding…”
“And you got me involved in this?” It was the first time Kirsty had spoken since they reached the docks.
“Everybody who interacts with Jeff Andrews gets involved in this shit one way or another. That’s how they got me.”
He took one more deep breath, rubbing his elbow.
“And she thinks, because I was the color commentator for A*P, that I can light a fire under him. Kirsty, when you were working with Andrews, did he ever introduce you to Ronnie Long?”
“No…” She drew the word out. “He didn’t really introduce me to anyone.”
“Well, then that means you don’t know Ronnie. I think he’s better when his killer instinct is fired up. She’s implying she wants him in kill mode because she thinks it’ll get to Jeff, seeing his buddy go off his rocker, but I seriously think there’s more to it than that.”
“Ever thought about just leaving?” She asked.
“I have. And it might even work. But I don’t wanna take that chance.”
Damien was shivering, but it had less to do with the cold.
He’d received the message to head to the Halifax docks, and to do so immediately. He’d known who it was, and he knew what it was about, and he knew he didn’t have good news for her.
The shadow of a woman in a leather duster stretched away from them, out over the ocean, a inky blot on blue.
“He’s failing.”
The woman’s voice was icy.
Damien cringed. He felt Kirsty McKinney’s gaze on him. She was puzzled, put out, wondering where his customary excessive self-confidence was.
Well, she didn’t know what the hell was going on, he told himself.
It’s a balancing game, he thought. Let her in on it - not all of it, just enough to let her get hooked. Bring her in too fast and she might get scared off, or worse, fail to take it seriously.
“So the question remains, Daeriq. What are you going to do about it?”
He took a deep breath.
The woman was looking away from him, out to sea. Her leather trenchcoat flapped a bit in the wind, but it was snugly buckled around her waist.
“Well, the first thing is to try and light a fire under his-”
“I’m not talking about Ronnie Long.” she interrupted.
“You mean Jeff Andrews?”
She breathed out, quietly. Then. “He said January 2022. It’s halfway through February.”
“Look.” Damien licked his lips. “I know Jeff’s been quiet about it for his own reasons, but you know he’s had some deaths in his family, like, beyond pro wrestling, beyond all this?”
And the woman whipped around to fix one eye on him.
“That. Is not. My concern.” Her voice grew quieter as she took a step towards Damien. “These things that I’ve been working for, that I’ve spent the last fifteen years working towards, ever since he let me free.”
The reason it was so hard to meet her eyes, Damien thought, was because she only had one, and it was an unnatural shade of pale blue, almost white. And that quarter of her face, around her left eye, was the only part of her face he could see.
The rest was hidden by a mask, and if the skeleton jaw full of shark’s teeth didn’t unnerve him, the blot that covered her right eye was blood red.
“When someone makes a deal with me, and I promise them that I can fix what was broken…”
And she grabbed his arm, the bad one, right by the elbow, through the brace, and at the same time, grabbed Kirsty around the neck, lifting the farm girl up onto her tiptoes.
“And then they renege…”
She twisted, bringing Damien to his knees with a wheeze of pain.
“I still expect what was offered to me.”
She let go. Damien fell to his back, clutching his arm to his stomach, as she turned to Kirsty, still dangling at the end of her arm.
“Regardless of who provides it.”
And she dropped McKinney, who sank to her knees next to her fallen mentor.
“Leave me.”
Damien knew when to listen. Collecting himself as best he could, he shook his head at McKinney, then set off down the pier towards land at the quickest walk he could manage.
McKinney’s eyes were big as she rubbed the red marks on her throat.
“Who the hell is that?”
Damien sighed. “You know, I don’t know her actual name. But she was in Andrews*Promotions, and back then, she wanted us to call her Queen of Sorrow. That was all pro wrestling stuff though. Away from it all, I just don’t know.”
McKinney stayed quiet, and after a bit, Damien continued.
“But sometimes you talk to someone, and you think it’s just a harmless chat, and then they tell you that you’ve agreed to something, and they have proof that it’s binding…”
“And you got me involved in this?” It was the first time Kirsty had spoken since they reached the docks.
“Everybody who interacts with Jeff Andrews gets involved in this shit one way or another. That’s how they got me.”
He took one more deep breath, rubbing his elbow.
“And she thinks, because I was the color commentator for A*P, that I can light a fire under him. Kirsty, when you were working with Andrews, did he ever introduce you to Ronnie Long?”
“No…” She drew the word out. “He didn’t really introduce me to anyone.”
“Well, then that means you don’t know Ronnie. I think he’s better when his killer instinct is fired up. She’s implying she wants him in kill mode because she thinks it’ll get to Jeff, seeing his buddy go off his rocker, but I seriously think there’s more to it than that.”
“Ever thought about just leaving?” She asked.
“I have. And it might even work. But I don’t wanna take that chance.”
