Post by The Templar on Oct 9, 2010 3:41:58 GMT -5
{Writer’s note: This is a continuation from “Only A Nightmare: Part 1” in Downtown.}
Tonight was one of those nights where, no matter what, everything was going Anthony Biggins’ way. After awaking from the best nap of his life and stepping off of the train, he stumbled across a twenty dollar bill lying in the middle of the aisle. Then, on his way to his hotel room in the usual curry smelling cab with the wails of a foreign chant blaring in the background, his cabs tracker broke down changing his usual trip fair of close to fifty dollars down to the low-low price of five dollars and thirty seven cents. Then as he hurried into his hotel to make his late afternoon and typically boring meeting he discovered it was cancelled, apparently having something to do with “personal issues”. Nonetheless, saving a few hours in life was always a bonus. After settling into his typical and generic hotel suite, he decided to lounge away in the hotel bar, hit back a few margaritas and then take a nice easy night in his bed. It was there he met the overly flirtatious cocktail waitress who, after a few minutes of playful flirting, wound up sitting beside him and getting wooed away.
And He saw every second of it. Not so much saw as manufactured it all. I mean, leaving five minutes ahead and making sure Anthony caught the twenty dollar bill he planted in the aisle was something most people would see as a stranger’s kind fortune. Sure he may’ve kicked in the cabbie’s toll counter and demanded he headed back to the train depot and pick up a Mr. Biggins or else his family’s life would be at stake, but it could have been any form of hate crime from anybody. I mean, calling in a bomb threat to a miscellaneous meeting he had no intentions of even knowing of and almost unaware it was the meeting that was discussing Anthony’s “future endeavours” could’ve just been chance coincidence. And alright, fine, he might have told the woman that Anthony Biggins was ridiculously wealthy and was always in the mood to drop hundreds and thousands of dollars at a time but I mean, who doesn’t make up stories to get a quick lay.
However, most stories without details or context could seem pretty positive. I mean He did steal the twenty from an old lady’s purse and made it aware to the nearest officer Anthony did. He did tell the cab driver his name was Anthony Biggins followed by a rather blunt racial slur. He did make the bomb threat on behalf of Anthony, declaring he’d kill them all if he didn’t keep his job. He did tell the undercover cop outside the bar that a certain fellow, flashing a wallet full of cash, was preparing to make a ridiculous drug deal. These, however, were only details. Tonight was the worst night of Anthony’s life. And he couldn’t be happier.
This time, it was more than a nightmare.
The joke was tired and worn out on the first attempt but it was Anthony’s favourite and the cocktail waitress/officer laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She thought those years going to college for a drama major would go to waste yet, alas, here she was. And He was watching it all. From the back of the bar sat a man, sitting at a two seated table under the dimmest light wearing a beat up tweed smoking jacket and old worn out dress slacks, watching. Not for a second did he remove his eyes and he knew Anthony could feel something staring through him, yet he was certain he was feeling the usual paranoia alcohol gives to some. Yet, for as much as He stared at Anthony, he knew everyone else was staring at him. It was his face. It was always this face they looked at. Not the one everyone is accustomed to, but this hideous, torn up mess. He couldn’t change it though, it’s how he felt, almost literally wearing your emotion on your sleeve.
There were few people in the bar, which made it affordable but a large flash of cash didn’t help his cause then, almost instantly, the saliva filled Anthony’s mouth. He knew this feeling well. He wasn’t a heavy drinker and the hard liquor always struck a nerve. Rushing to the backdoor, his mouth beginning to fill with his own bodily fluids, the bouncer stood in his way; A lumbering man, definitely close to seven feet tall and as wide as a barn, definitely over the three hundred pound range, strange when you think of it for a hotel bar. Anthony looked as though he was about to burst until, the large, burly bouncer looked to the dark man in the back corner who merely nodded and the boulder moved from the doorway, allowing Biggins to escape into the back alley, into the night.
Hunched over, his head leaning against the brick wall, Anthony couldn’t help but laugh as his lunch and breakfast all came tumbling out in a nice puddle, a good enough meal for a rat. In the midst of the violent mist he could hardly hear the sound of the back alley door creak open and then creak close. Expecting help from a stranger, Anthony stumbles around to face this “friend,” but it’s not exactly who he suspects.
As of this moment he was anything but twitchy, more like a statue, targeting his prey like an owl putting his sights on a mouse in the dead of night. Standing a tad over six feet tall and relatively stocky, for sure over two hundred pounds, his dark friend continued to stand with his head concealed under the dim shadows.
Anthony Biggins was never a fan of horror movies. They always gave him an uneasy vibe growing up, almost as if he thought about it too much it would consume his night. This was one of those uneasy vibes. Stepping from the shadow, something strange seemed to be covering his face, actually it was something absurd. A burlap sack covering his face with small holes cut out for the eyes and a conveniently placed noose wrapped around his neck in replace of a tie. The man looked as though he had come out from that dream you would have, awaking in a cold and blistering sweat, unaware of what had happened, yet it felt so real you were certain it was actually happening; he was that dream. Anthony Biggins froze in spot, utterly speechless, uncertain whether to soil himself in defence or run to the hills.
He moved faster and was far more flexible than you’d expect for a man of his stature. Anthony Biggins, still trapped like a statue, was now the victim of a series of unfortunate events. Unprepared and untrained for such a strike, a sharp and stinging sensation shot down his left shoulder from the high right kick from Pavor. Yet, before he could even bring up his other arm to instinctively hold off the pain, a low left kick whips off of his right knee, forcing him down on all fours immediately. Before he can even give out a wail of pain a final right kick collides against Anthony’s ribs forcing the air from his chest in a loud, blood curdling shriek, to which Pavor responds with his giddy, tittering, and twisted little laugh.
During Pavor’s rant, he moved around, quickly and quietly positioning himself behind Anthony who was still feeling those sharp, stinging kicks, and something he’d feel for quite some time. Being drunk enough not to feel the full effects of them entirely, Anthony Biggins began to push himself up to his feet, hoping to gain some chance of running away. Opening his eyes, he looks up and takes in the sight of the brightly lit stars in the grimy and greasy back alley. The thoughts of his life flashes randomly throughout his mind, honestly believing he was about to die. The thoughts of never being able to see his wife and child again, or being able to see the places around the world he was dying to, or seeing exactly how well-
Black out.
The thunderous echo of bone on bone and very little skin and muscle to dampen the blow echoed the alley like dynamite in a mountain range. Pavor Nocturnus stood still, watching Anthony Biggins fall face first to the soulless pavement, unable to brace the fall with his hands being unconscious before even hitting the ground. That was his secret weapon; an utterly violent forearm strike to the back of the head, with a little beforehand rotation to whip around his bodily momentum to give it an even further devastating shot. It was a concussion on delivery. It was the end game. Pavor watched as Anthony’s face ricocheted off of the pavement, not giving an inch, and stared at him, like a father just putting his child down for bed.
This time, the laugh didn’t follow; only the creaking of the doorway with the large bouncer emerging. He didn’t make a move for Pavor, almost as if he was intimidated. He watched as Pavor reached down with moral into Anthony’s suit coat and dug a little bit inside. Anthony Biggins wouldn’t have minded. After all, he wouldn’t need what was being grabbed at all anyway.
Behind the burlap sack, a twisted and utterly devilish smile grew across the face of Pavor. Pulling out from Anthony’s pocket was a large card with a lanyard, looking very important. Holding it up to the moonlight he reads the words very carefully across the card. “GHW Presents: Glory vs. Honour – Full Circle. Certified Staff and VIP access only.”
End
To be continued.
Tonight was one of those nights where, no matter what, everything was going Anthony Biggins’ way. After awaking from the best nap of his life and stepping off of the train, he stumbled across a twenty dollar bill lying in the middle of the aisle. Then, on his way to his hotel room in the usual curry smelling cab with the wails of a foreign chant blaring in the background, his cabs tracker broke down changing his usual trip fair of close to fifty dollars down to the low-low price of five dollars and thirty seven cents. Then as he hurried into his hotel to make his late afternoon and typically boring meeting he discovered it was cancelled, apparently having something to do with “personal issues”. Nonetheless, saving a few hours in life was always a bonus. After settling into his typical and generic hotel suite, he decided to lounge away in the hotel bar, hit back a few margaritas and then take a nice easy night in his bed. It was there he met the overly flirtatious cocktail waitress who, after a few minutes of playful flirting, wound up sitting beside him and getting wooed away.
And He saw every second of it. Not so much saw as manufactured it all. I mean, leaving five minutes ahead and making sure Anthony caught the twenty dollar bill he planted in the aisle was something most people would see as a stranger’s kind fortune. Sure he may’ve kicked in the cabbie’s toll counter and demanded he headed back to the train depot and pick up a Mr. Biggins or else his family’s life would be at stake, but it could have been any form of hate crime from anybody. I mean, calling in a bomb threat to a miscellaneous meeting he had no intentions of even knowing of and almost unaware it was the meeting that was discussing Anthony’s “future endeavours” could’ve just been chance coincidence. And alright, fine, he might have told the woman that Anthony Biggins was ridiculously wealthy and was always in the mood to drop hundreds and thousands of dollars at a time but I mean, who doesn’t make up stories to get a quick lay.
However, most stories without details or context could seem pretty positive. I mean He did steal the twenty from an old lady’s purse and made it aware to the nearest officer Anthony did. He did tell the cab driver his name was Anthony Biggins followed by a rather blunt racial slur. He did make the bomb threat on behalf of Anthony, declaring he’d kill them all if he didn’t keep his job. He did tell the undercover cop outside the bar that a certain fellow, flashing a wallet full of cash, was preparing to make a ridiculous drug deal. These, however, were only details. Tonight was the worst night of Anthony’s life. And he couldn’t be happier.
This time, it was more than a nightmare.
Anthony Biggins:
“And then I said ‘Rectum? Damn near killed him!’ Ho-ho-ho!”
[/center]“And then I said ‘Rectum? Damn near killed him!’ Ho-ho-ho!”
The joke was tired and worn out on the first attempt but it was Anthony’s favourite and the cocktail waitress/officer laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She thought those years going to college for a drama major would go to waste yet, alas, here she was. And He was watching it all. From the back of the bar sat a man, sitting at a two seated table under the dimmest light wearing a beat up tweed smoking jacket and old worn out dress slacks, watching. Not for a second did he remove his eyes and he knew Anthony could feel something staring through him, yet he was certain he was feeling the usual paranoia alcohol gives to some. Yet, for as much as He stared at Anthony, he knew everyone else was staring at him. It was his face. It was always this face they looked at. Not the one everyone is accustomed to, but this hideous, torn up mess. He couldn’t change it though, it’s how he felt, almost literally wearing your emotion on your sleeve.
Anthony Biggins:
“Y’know... Muh wife back home doesn’t need to know about any of this! She’s a bitch anyway... Always makin’ meh do everything and what not... Best night of my life... Drinks for all on the house!”
[/center]“Y’know... Muh wife back home doesn’t need to know about any of this! She’s a bitch anyway... Always makin’ meh do everything and what not... Best night of my life... Drinks for all on the house!”
There were few people in the bar, which made it affordable but a large flash of cash didn’t help his cause then, almost instantly, the saliva filled Anthony’s mouth. He knew this feeling well. He wasn’t a heavy drinker and the hard liquor always struck a nerve. Rushing to the backdoor, his mouth beginning to fill with his own bodily fluids, the bouncer stood in his way; A lumbering man, definitely close to seven feet tall and as wide as a barn, definitely over the three hundred pound range, strange when you think of it for a hotel bar. Anthony looked as though he was about to burst until, the large, burly bouncer looked to the dark man in the back corner who merely nodded and the boulder moved from the doorway, allowing Biggins to escape into the back alley, into the night.
Hunched over, his head leaning against the brick wall, Anthony couldn’t help but laugh as his lunch and breakfast all came tumbling out in a nice puddle, a good enough meal for a rat. In the midst of the violent mist he could hardly hear the sound of the back alley door creak open and then creak close. Expecting help from a stranger, Anthony stumbles around to face this “friend,” but it’s not exactly who he suspects.
Anthony Biggins:
“Hey... I know you... You’re that guy from the train... Yeah, yeah, you’re that twitchy feller!”
[/center]“Hey... I know you... You’re that guy from the train... Yeah, yeah, you’re that twitchy feller!”
As of this moment he was anything but twitchy, more like a statue, targeting his prey like an owl putting his sights on a mouse in the dead of night. Standing a tad over six feet tall and relatively stocky, for sure over two hundred pounds, his dark friend continued to stand with his head concealed under the dim shadows.
Anthony Biggins:
“Well come on over here and maker yerself useful, I mean its not-“
[/center]“Well come on over here and maker yerself useful, I mean its not-“
Anthony Biggins was never a fan of horror movies. They always gave him an uneasy vibe growing up, almost as if he thought about it too much it would consume his night. This was one of those uneasy vibes. Stepping from the shadow, something strange seemed to be covering his face, actually it was something absurd. A burlap sack covering his face with small holes cut out for the eyes and a conveniently placed noose wrapped around his neck in replace of a tie. The man looked as though he had come out from that dream you would have, awaking in a cold and blistering sweat, unaware of what had happened, yet it felt so real you were certain it was actually happening; he was that dream. Anthony Biggins froze in spot, utterly speechless, uncertain whether to soil himself in defence or run to the hills.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“Shh.... Don’t worry... I’m not going to hurt you... In fact, it won’t be painful at all... Consider it... A remedy... A-haa-haa-ha! Yes, a remedy! You see... When you wake up, all of this... Pathetic little world that consumes you... Will be gone! A bad dream! Yes, yes, nothing but a bad dream! You know... My friends call me something like that... Oh how rude... Yes, rude indeed! Of me not to introduce myself... You see, I’m not entirely sure... You see, I’m not all there myself... However, you can call me Pavor... Yes, yes! Pavor Nocturnus is the name... And, you could say, pain is my game... A-haa-haa-ha, kind of catchy, ha-haa-haa-ha, no?!”
[/center]“Shh.... Don’t worry... I’m not going to hurt you... In fact, it won’t be painful at all... Consider it... A remedy... A-haa-haa-ha! Yes, a remedy! You see... When you wake up, all of this... Pathetic little world that consumes you... Will be gone! A bad dream! Yes, yes, nothing but a bad dream! You know... My friends call me something like that... Oh how rude... Yes, rude indeed! Of me not to introduce myself... You see, I’m not entirely sure... You see, I’m not all there myself... However, you can call me Pavor... Yes, yes! Pavor Nocturnus is the name... And, you could say, pain is my game... A-haa-haa-ha, kind of catchy, ha-haa-haa-ha, no?!”
He moved faster and was far more flexible than you’d expect for a man of his stature. Anthony Biggins, still trapped like a statue, was now the victim of a series of unfortunate events. Unprepared and untrained for such a strike, a sharp and stinging sensation shot down his left shoulder from the high right kick from Pavor. Yet, before he could even bring up his other arm to instinctively hold off the pain, a low left kick whips off of his right knee, forcing him down on all fours immediately. Before he can even give out a wail of pain a final right kick collides against Anthony’s ribs forcing the air from his chest in a loud, blood curdling shriek, to which Pavor responds with his giddy, tittering, and twisted little laugh.
Anthony Biggins:
“Wh-wh-what the Hell are you doing?! Ah Gawd, Ah Gawd... Somebody! Somebody help!”
[/center]“Wh-wh-what the Hell are you doing?! Ah Gawd, Ah Gawd... Somebody! Somebody help!”
Pavor Nocturnus:
“Oh... No, no, no, no, no, you don’t understand it at all, do you? Oh silly, silly, silly young boy, I am helping you! When you wake up in the morning you won’t have all that stress and commitment of your current life... Notice how, when you’re having the best dream of your life, a sudden bad thought kicks in and it all turns sour..? Well! This is that bad thought! This is that little seed of doubt that creeps into your mind and turns your whole world up... Side... Down! However, here’s where I come in... Rather than suffering through that transition period... Why not go straight to the end! Because... When you wake up in the morning... Tonight will be over... It’ll be another day... There will be nothing to fear...”
[/center]“Oh... No, no, no, no, no, you don’t understand it at all, do you? Oh silly, silly, silly young boy, I am helping you! When you wake up in the morning you won’t have all that stress and commitment of your current life... Notice how, when you’re having the best dream of your life, a sudden bad thought kicks in and it all turns sour..? Well! This is that bad thought! This is that little seed of doubt that creeps into your mind and turns your whole world up... Side... Down! However, here’s where I come in... Rather than suffering through that transition period... Why not go straight to the end! Because... When you wake up in the morning... Tonight will be over... It’ll be another day... There will be nothing to fear...”
During Pavor’s rant, he moved around, quickly and quietly positioning himself behind Anthony who was still feeling those sharp, stinging kicks, and something he’d feel for quite some time. Being drunk enough not to feel the full effects of them entirely, Anthony Biggins began to push himself up to his feet, hoping to gain some chance of running away. Opening his eyes, he looks up and takes in the sight of the brightly lit stars in the grimy and greasy back alley. The thoughts of his life flashes randomly throughout his mind, honestly believing he was about to die. The thoughts of never being able to see his wife and child again, or being able to see the places around the world he was dying to, or seeing exactly how well-
Black out.
The thunderous echo of bone on bone and very little skin and muscle to dampen the blow echoed the alley like dynamite in a mountain range. Pavor Nocturnus stood still, watching Anthony Biggins fall face first to the soulless pavement, unable to brace the fall with his hands being unconscious before even hitting the ground. That was his secret weapon; an utterly violent forearm strike to the back of the head, with a little beforehand rotation to whip around his bodily momentum to give it an even further devastating shot. It was a concussion on delivery. It was the end game. Pavor watched as Anthony’s face ricocheted off of the pavement, not giving an inch, and stared at him, like a father just putting his child down for bed.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“It is, after all... Only a nightmare...”
[/center]“It is, after all... Only a nightmare...”
This time, the laugh didn’t follow; only the creaking of the doorway with the large bouncer emerging. He didn’t make a move for Pavor, almost as if he was intimidated. He watched as Pavor reached down with moral into Anthony’s suit coat and dug a little bit inside. Anthony Biggins wouldn’t have minded. After all, he wouldn’t need what was being grabbed at all anyway.
Bouncer:
“So... What happens now boss?”
[/center]“So... What happens now boss?”
Pavor Nocturnus:
“First of all... Finish him off. He may smell like a mess and may be a piece of shit but let’s make him look worse than that. Then pack your bags...”
[/center]“First of all... Finish him off. He may smell like a mess and may be a piece of shit but let’s make him look worse than that. Then pack your bags...”
Behind the burlap sack, a twisted and utterly devilish smile grew across the face of Pavor. Pulling out from Anthony’s pocket was a large card with a lanyard, looking very important. Holding it up to the moonlight he reads the words very carefully across the card. “GHW Presents: Glory vs. Honour – Full Circle. Certified Staff and VIP access only.”
Pavor Nocturnus:
“... We’re going to Full Circle.”
[/center]“... We’re going to Full Circle.”
End
To be continued.
