"...run a train on me."
Dec 15, 2020 4:31:39 GMT -6
Deana Barrows, Jack Puffer, and 2 more like this
Post by Mack O'Connor on Dec 15, 2020 4:31:39 GMT -6
Wednesday
November 18th
Heavy breathing and grunting is heard. In his prison cell, Mack O’Connor is doing push-ups. He lets out a grunt every time he reaches the peak and starts a new sequence.
His cell is dark. It’s clearly the middle of the night. The cell is only illuminated by what we can assume to be moonlight. It may not be moonlight, however. It could be the faint glow of the lights illuminating the hotel and casino nearby. It was hard to tell. Point being, the cell is pretty dark. But we can see what is happening.
A prison guard approaches Mack’s cell. The guard looks around to make sure no one else is listening. He then whispers to Mack.
I’m told you’re a pretty witty guy, Mack.
Mack stopped in the middle of the push-up. That was the challenge phrase that his connection gave him. Mack raises himself to his knee, then up to a standing position. He turned, glaring at the prison guard.
I am. But I know a city that’s Whittier.
The guard nodded, acknowledging the response as the correct answer. Mack watched carefully as the guard slowly and silently unlocked the door to his cell.
The guard addressed him again.
Do you have what is needed?
Mack slowly nodded, the sweat on his neck glistening in the moonlight. Or the casino light. Whatever. His sweat was glistening.
He reached down to his cot, grabbing the shank he crafted over the last month. It took quite a bit of effort to make the shank. It took strategic planning to cut the handle and sharpen the blade, but it was well worth it in the end. Mack held up the makeshift knife, displaying it to the guard.
The guard nodded.
Shift change is in five minutes. I’m assuming you know where his cell is?
Mack slowly nodded. Again, his sweat was glistening in the minimal light.
I know.
Our mutual friend expects it to be done quietly.
It will be.
It better be.
I said it will be.
Then he will be pleased.
Good.
Yeah, good.
They stood in silence, staring at each other for a moment. That stare began to last a little too long.
Is there anything else?
The guard shifted, a bit uncomfortable now.
Well, no. I was just… The way the moonlight came in through your window…
I think it’s the light from the casino.
You know what I mean.
They both suddenly stopped, staring at each other again.
Just get it done.
Considered it done.
Let me know when its done.
This conversation is done.
Its done when I say its done.
They stared at each other again. The guard thought about the situation for a moment, then quickly walked away.
Mack took a deep breath.
Here we go.
----------
Mere moments later, Mack was tip toeing down the hall of the prison. He was waiting for this moment for so long.
It seemed like only yesterday that Mack was thrown into this pit. Little did he know, many of the prisoners inside this detention center had placed very high bets on Mack, thinking he would beat Lissie Hope. As everyone knows, she managed to pull out the victory in an upset of the decade. These inmates were not pleased, and they knew they could take it out on Mack once he was thrown back in the joint.
Mack returned to prison with his head held high. He fought the best he could, and he fought for months. He knew his time as a free man wasn’t guaranteed, so he couldn’t be mad when it came to an end. Still, the inmates didn’t see it that way. They felt like Mack was responsible for their lost bets.
One man in particular held Mack extra responsible. Upon Mack’s return, he constantly kept sending other inmates to attack Mack. Mack managed to fight most of them off, but some found him while he was vulnerable and did some damage. Mack was beaten, stabbed, and constantly jumped due to his loss. But this one particular inmate made it personal. It went beyond your typical vendetta or your “business deal gone sour.” There was something else to it.
So Mack was finally given the chance to make things right. This particular inmate pissed off enough people, both fellow inmates and guards, that everyone wanted him dead. And they knew Mack would be up for the task.
So Mack silently made his way towards this particular inmate’s cell. He could already imagine stabbing this particular inmate with the shank in rapid succession, hoping the blood would splatter out like a sick man’s dick cumming to the sight of his own daughter having sex. He had spent many nights thinking about it… Thinking about stabbing the particular inmate, not the sick man and his daughter.
Mack slowly approached this particular inmate’s cell. He could see the inmate laying in his cot, the blanket rising and falling as the inmate breathed in and out. Mack was ready to attack. He was ready to strike.
Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Mack raised the shank in the air, turning on the person who snuck up behind him. It was the same guard as before.
Mack managed to keep his frustrated voice to a low whisper..
What the fuck are you doing?
Things have changed. You have a visitor.
A visitor? At this time? Are you fucking serious?
I was told its important. Its probably best you didn’t do this.
Mack looked through the cell door at this particular inmate. The inmate was still asleep, not knowing that Mack could have ended their life in just a few moments.
Mack looked at the guard.
It better be fucking important.
Follow me.
----------
Mack sat a table in an interrogation room. Alone. His hands were cuffed to a bolt in the middle of the table, prohibiting him from moving from his chair.
He glanced at the mirror on the wall to the right. He wasn’t stupid: There was obviously someone watching him on the other side of that mirror.
The door to the room opened. Mack began to consciously breathing deeply, trying to calm himself as his situation became more dire. He glanced to the door… Instead of a detective charging into the room, there was just a man in a wheelchair. An old man. The wheelchair was slowly pushed into the room. Mack didn’t recognize the man in the chair, but he recognized the man pushing.
What the fuck is this, Zybala?
Zybala raised a hand, aiming to calm Mack down.
Just listen to him.
Who the fuck is he?
Shut up and listen.
Mack takes another breath, staring across the table as Zybala places the man and his wheelchair on the other side of the table.
Zybala steps back, taking guard over the man in the wheelchair. The man raises a hand, waving Zybala off. Zybala glared at Mack, but he conceded to the wheelchair guy’s demands and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The man in the wheelchair simply stared at Mack for a moment.
Mack stared back.
It was awkward.
So... What?
Mack O’Connor.
Yep... That's me... Obviously. Can I fucking help you?
The man just smiled.
How about a fucking name? What do I call you?
The man smiles.
How can I fucking help you?
Do you know who I am?
Clearly not.
Just call me the Accelerator.
Mack squints.
The Accelerator…
That’s right.
So… You’re the one…
Yes.
Mack nods. The Accelerator gestures to the mirror.
Get him out of those cuffs, will you?
A guard walks in, quickly unlocks the handcuffs from the table, and quickly leaves the room. Mack rubs his wrists softly, still staring at the Accelerator.
What do you want?
It’s not what I want. What do you want?
Dude... I don't know. What's this about?
You had a great run in GCWA, Mack. I was impressed. The world was impressed. You won your first match, then won the World Title in your second match. I think you probably only made four appearances before that.
So?
Some people boast that nine appearances before the World Title is impressive. But no one remembers how you crushed that.
Just get to the point, please.
Fair. Look, you had your run. And it was a good run. Then you lost. And they threw you back here.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
What they didn’t tell you…
Who is they?
My children.
Who the fuck are-
The Barrows.
Mack squints again.
Continue.
They failed to mention a small stipulation in your contract.
Stipulation?
If you were to win gold during your time under contract, you would be granted a rematch once you lost that gold.
Mack looked confused, shaking his head as he responded.
No, I’m pretty sure they would have booked me then.
No. They were hoping you didn’t know.
But Treat… Ahem… Mr. Cassidy would have pointed that out and-
You fired Cassidy and refused to see him. He tried, but you ignored his calls.
Mack gently bites his clenched fist in frustration.
But I’ve recently regained some power in GCWA… And I’m here to grant you that shot, and to legally pull you out of this dump.
Mack sits for a moment. He looks at the door, imaging something else.
But, I just can’t leave...
Why not?
This might be hard to explain… But I’ve been building something here. Tonight, in fact, you interrupted me. I was about to complete something that would have concluded nearly four months of building.
But that’s how life works.
No. I would have never committed to GCWA if it meant giving up what I’ve been building for four months.
Huh? What have you been building?
A story.
About?
A particular inmate.
Look… Life happens. And life changes things. Come with me.
I’d love to. I truly would. And I truly meant to give GCWA my full effort. But I’ve been building this idea for four months. I just can’t bail on it now. You know that!
But that’s how life works, Mack. Things happen. You can’t just lock yourself down. You have to adjust. You have to let it affect you in an organic manner.
But what about the others in here who may be depending on me? They have been following this for four months too.
I’m sure they can find someone else to pull off your task. There’s always someone else.
But…
No. That’s not how life works. Why are you holding on to this contrived story you’re building? Why not let it evolve naturally? What is holding you back? Why are you holding on to this idea that your life is predetermined the way you imagine it?
Mack thinks for a moment.
You’re right. Life is unpredictable. It’s incredibly unrealistic for me to plan something four months out and not anticipate that there might be outside factors that may influence change.
There you go! Come with me.
You got it.
----------
Monday
December 14th
James Raven. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. All I know is that we are both fighting to be the best. We both have been here before. We’ve both fought to be the best before. So what’s the difference between me and you? Well… You’re probably a lot cuter than me. You have better hair, and you keep your facial hair a lot more clean than me. So…. Good job on that. But that shit won’t matter, cutie pie, when we meet in the ring. We both know you’re not the true champion. That belt you hold isn’t yours. Not yet. You have to get through someone. Anyone. And that anyone is me. I’m the person they threw in front of you. And I’m ready to step in front of the Raven train. And I’m ready to take that train. I’m ready to let that train run over me. I’m ready to let Raven run a train on me.
Mack pauses.
Look, you know what I mean. Fuck you. I’m gonna wreck your ass Raven. I’m gonna wreck it hard.
Mack pauses again.
You know what the fuck I mean.
Mack pushes the camera away.
