Arson Zanders
League Member
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2006
- Messages
- 16
- Points
- 0
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The TV flickered on and off deliriously as if out of control. It began almost like a hypnotic device with its recurring colors of gray, black and white. The band of white would overshadow the blackened background and suddenly stream down to the bottom of the screen from the top. A grayish static could be seen in the mid-corners of the TV and offered little creativity for the eye to rest on.
But I wouldn’t know the difference at this point. I was so plastered, there could have been porn on the TV and I would have been seeing colors. Yeah, I feel sorry for myself too.
Sitting on my couch with a bottle of vodka in my hand, my eyes stayed fixed on the television. I could hear the incessant knocking on the door, but I didn’t have the will nor the inclination to see who it was. It was probably my landlord, wondering where the rent that was owed two weeks ago had disappeared to. Here’s one guess: it’s in my hand and I’m almost done drinking it.
“Open up, Zanders, we know you’re in there.”
I turned my head towards the door. The voice sounded demanding with a hint of angry beginning to show.
This was turning out to be my lucky day.
“Go away,” I shouted back at the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any of it.”
“Frost wants to talk to you,” The voice replied from behind the door. “Frost. You remember who he is, right? Now open the f*cking door.”
The name rang out in such a vile manner that no man would be resistant to its call. The call was like a thousand trumpets from the top of Rome’s tower raining down on the loving people below. Roses could be thrown from the sky and there stood the queen of all creation, the mother of beauty, and the heart that each man wanted to capture. Now reverse all of that and you’ve got Xavier Frost – the devil in human form.
The TV flickered on for the last time and shut off. I sat on the couch staring at the TV with a look of utter disgust.
“I’m coming,” I said at last. Picking myself up, I walked over to the door and opened it. Before me stood three very large men, all dressed in black and dark shades. They all had the same haircut – crew cuts, faded on the sides. If I didn’t know any better, I would say they were triplets. The one in the middle, however, was much more muscular than the rest. I knew him by name.
“Deacon Giovanni, what do I owe this honor?”
Deacon grabbed me by the shirt, shoving me backwards so that I hit the floor. I spun onto my stomach, already ready to pounce back up. The two other men with him quickly followed him in and closed the door, remembering to lock it. Oh, they were good.
“Who the f*ck do you think you are keeping us out there like that?” Deacon questioned angrily. “When we say open the door, you’d better ****ing open the door next time.”
I heard words, but they weren’t registering anymore. All I saw was red, and a huge bulls eye on Deacon’s chest. I rushed forward, grabbing Deacon by the head and shoving him towards the couch. He was surprised, and even more so when I punched him in the face, knocking him back to the floor. Before I could do anything else, the two goons he came in with grabbed me and held me up. I struggled, but even I was too stubborn to know when I was licked.
Deacon got back to his feet slowly, wiping off the blood from his lip. He smiled at me, and I knew that had to mean something bad. “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew…”
“That’s Arson,” I replied smugly.
He replied with a gut punch – one that knocked all of the air out of my system. I gasped for air as he chuckled.
“You always have to be the damn fireball act, don’t ya, Arson?” Deacon asked coyly. “Well, this time there ain’t no cops to save your ass this time.” He grabbed my face and made me look him in the eye. “Just you and me.”
“The cops saved you,” I told him. “If they hadn’t been there at that club, I swear to god I would have killed you.”
He chuckled again. “Shot me in the back, ya mean?”
“Best way to take a man down.”
“You’re a f*cking coward,” Deacon said, opening up his jacket to reveal a gun. “But you’re not afraid to kill, and you do it without even thinking. That’s why Frost wants you.” He took off the gun and stuck it to my forehead. “Tell me you’re scared, and maybe I won’t fire.”
A million thoughts raced through my head, but I could only think about that one bullet that would be racing through it in three seconds if I didn’t do something. He would fire. He hated me that much. Hell, I’d do the same if I were in his position.
“You won’t shoot me,” I said with a smug smile.
“Oh, and why is that?” He clicked off the safety to reassure me that he would indeed fire.
“You’re here for a reason, or else I’d already be dead,” I answered. “Now, tell your goons to let go of me…before I have to put them down for good.”
I could feel the goons looking to Deacon for an answer.
“Let him go,” He said at last.
They did as they were told, much to my surprise. Good goons they were, who took orders without question.
I looked back at Deacon, who stared at the bottle of vodka that I had dropped.
“I thought you were trying to get off the booze, Zanders.”
“Thanks mom, I didn’t think you cared,” I replied sarcastically. “Now, why are you here?”
Deacon motioned for his goons to leave, and I watched them exit quietly. I turned my attention back to Deacon, just in case he tried anything. “Don’t you want them in here?”
“No, this is for your ears only.” He walked over to the couch and sat down.
“Comfortable?”
He ignored the snipe. “Zanders, we know you're in EPW.” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re right, it’s none of MY business,” He snarled. “But it is Frost’s business, and the rest of the council at The Midnight.”
I stuck my finger in his face. “You tell your council that I don’t give a damn what they think or what they want.”
He stared at me for awhile, unsure of what to say. He probably could have stood up and completely destroyed me, but he didn’t. “You’re a big boy running scared, Zanders. You know you can’t stand up to the council.” He leaned into me and spoke in a hushed whisper. “They own this city now. I know you understand that. That’s why you’re scared.”
“Fear is nothing to me.”
“Getting suicidal on me again, Zanders?” He asked, leaning back into the couch. “We both know that Frost has wanted you in the syndicate ever since he first saw you step into the cage and fight. And that’s why he has all of these hooks on ya. You really think you can get away?”
I turned my back on him, staring outside a window. The night was dark and bleak, and below I could see only a handful of cars trying to drive to wherever they were going. I lived in a bad part of Chicago, where if you listened hard enough, you could hear the homicides being committed.
“I’ll never get out, will I?”
“Not as long as Frost is alive.”
My attention was diverted for a moment. “What are you saying? You want me to kill Frost?”
Deacon stood up from the couch and brushed off his jacket. “One of our contacts at the 22nd police precinct tried to get out. He even got the feddies to get him into one of those protection programs. He’s dead now, along with his eight month old pregnant wife. Found face down in a lake.” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Now, if you value any part of your life, you’ll start to realize that before they get serious."
“What is that supposed to mean?"
Deacon had an amused look on his face. "They have an inside card on you, Andrew. And they have been playing it ever since you came to EPW. If you don't play ball, this person will become more obvious to you."
The story was finally unfolding. "The mystery man during my first match," I replied. "The guy that cost me my match. You guys sent him."
"You're good, Zanders. Too good maybe. You had a shot to maybe go all the way, and we couldn't allow that. Not until you were on our side. Besides, we had to get you afraid. Unfortunately, you've been turning fear into motivation. That has to stop. And it will."
"What are you going to do?"
Deacon turned to leave. "I'll do what I'm told, and so will you. And if you don't, you'll see what the consequences are."
As he left, I realized I was in some deep ****. Excuse my french.
The TV flickered on and off deliriously as if out of control. It began almost like a hypnotic device with its recurring colors of gray, black and white. The band of white would overshadow the blackened background and suddenly stream down to the bottom of the screen from the top. A grayish static could be seen in the mid-corners of the TV and offered little creativity for the eye to rest on.
But I wouldn’t know the difference at this point. I was so plastered, there could have been porn on the TV and I would have been seeing colors. Yeah, I feel sorry for myself too.
Sitting on my couch with a bottle of vodka in my hand, my eyes stayed fixed on the television. I could hear the incessant knocking on the door, but I didn’t have the will nor the inclination to see who it was. It was probably my landlord, wondering where the rent that was owed two weeks ago had disappeared to. Here’s one guess: it’s in my hand and I’m almost done drinking it.
“Open up, Zanders, we know you’re in there.”
I turned my head towards the door. The voice sounded demanding with a hint of angry beginning to show.
This was turning out to be my lucky day.
“Go away,” I shouted back at the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any of it.”
“Frost wants to talk to you,” The voice replied from behind the door. “Frost. You remember who he is, right? Now open the f*cking door.”
The name rang out in such a vile manner that no man would be resistant to its call. The call was like a thousand trumpets from the top of Rome’s tower raining down on the loving people below. Roses could be thrown from the sky and there stood the queen of all creation, the mother of beauty, and the heart that each man wanted to capture. Now reverse all of that and you’ve got Xavier Frost – the devil in human form.
The TV flickered on for the last time and shut off. I sat on the couch staring at the TV with a look of utter disgust.
“I’m coming,” I said at last. Picking myself up, I walked over to the door and opened it. Before me stood three very large men, all dressed in black and dark shades. They all had the same haircut – crew cuts, faded on the sides. If I didn’t know any better, I would say they were triplets. The one in the middle, however, was much more muscular than the rest. I knew him by name.
“Deacon Giovanni, what do I owe this honor?”
Deacon grabbed me by the shirt, shoving me backwards so that I hit the floor. I spun onto my stomach, already ready to pounce back up. The two other men with him quickly followed him in and closed the door, remembering to lock it. Oh, they were good.
“Who the f*ck do you think you are keeping us out there like that?” Deacon questioned angrily. “When we say open the door, you’d better ****ing open the door next time.”
I heard words, but they weren’t registering anymore. All I saw was red, and a huge bulls eye on Deacon’s chest. I rushed forward, grabbing Deacon by the head and shoving him towards the couch. He was surprised, and even more so when I punched him in the face, knocking him back to the floor. Before I could do anything else, the two goons he came in with grabbed me and held me up. I struggled, but even I was too stubborn to know when I was licked.
Deacon got back to his feet slowly, wiping off the blood from his lip. He smiled at me, and I knew that had to mean something bad. “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew…”
“That’s Arson,” I replied smugly.
He replied with a gut punch – one that knocked all of the air out of my system. I gasped for air as he chuckled.
“You always have to be the damn fireball act, don’t ya, Arson?” Deacon asked coyly. “Well, this time there ain’t no cops to save your ass this time.” He grabbed my face and made me look him in the eye. “Just you and me.”
“The cops saved you,” I told him. “If they hadn’t been there at that club, I swear to god I would have killed you.”
He chuckled again. “Shot me in the back, ya mean?”
“Best way to take a man down.”
“You’re a f*cking coward,” Deacon said, opening up his jacket to reveal a gun. “But you’re not afraid to kill, and you do it without even thinking. That’s why Frost wants you.” He took off the gun and stuck it to my forehead. “Tell me you’re scared, and maybe I won’t fire.”
A million thoughts raced through my head, but I could only think about that one bullet that would be racing through it in three seconds if I didn’t do something. He would fire. He hated me that much. Hell, I’d do the same if I were in his position.
“You won’t shoot me,” I said with a smug smile.
“Oh, and why is that?” He clicked off the safety to reassure me that he would indeed fire.
“You’re here for a reason, or else I’d already be dead,” I answered. “Now, tell your goons to let go of me…before I have to put them down for good.”
I could feel the goons looking to Deacon for an answer.
“Let him go,” He said at last.
They did as they were told, much to my surprise. Good goons they were, who took orders without question.
I looked back at Deacon, who stared at the bottle of vodka that I had dropped.
“I thought you were trying to get off the booze, Zanders.”
“Thanks mom, I didn’t think you cared,” I replied sarcastically. “Now, why are you here?”
Deacon motioned for his goons to leave, and I watched them exit quietly. I turned my attention back to Deacon, just in case he tried anything. “Don’t you want them in here?”
“No, this is for your ears only.” He walked over to the couch and sat down.
“Comfortable?”
He ignored the snipe. “Zanders, we know you're in EPW.” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re right, it’s none of MY business,” He snarled. “But it is Frost’s business, and the rest of the council at The Midnight.”
I stuck my finger in his face. “You tell your council that I don’t give a damn what they think or what they want.”
He stared at me for awhile, unsure of what to say. He probably could have stood up and completely destroyed me, but he didn’t. “You’re a big boy running scared, Zanders. You know you can’t stand up to the council.” He leaned into me and spoke in a hushed whisper. “They own this city now. I know you understand that. That’s why you’re scared.”
“Fear is nothing to me.”
“Getting suicidal on me again, Zanders?” He asked, leaning back into the couch. “We both know that Frost has wanted you in the syndicate ever since he first saw you step into the cage and fight. And that’s why he has all of these hooks on ya. You really think you can get away?”
I turned my back on him, staring outside a window. The night was dark and bleak, and below I could see only a handful of cars trying to drive to wherever they were going. I lived in a bad part of Chicago, where if you listened hard enough, you could hear the homicides being committed.
“I’ll never get out, will I?”
“Not as long as Frost is alive.”
My attention was diverted for a moment. “What are you saying? You want me to kill Frost?”
Deacon stood up from the couch and brushed off his jacket. “One of our contacts at the 22nd police precinct tried to get out. He even got the feddies to get him into one of those protection programs. He’s dead now, along with his eight month old pregnant wife. Found face down in a lake.” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Now, if you value any part of your life, you’ll start to realize that before they get serious."
“What is that supposed to mean?"
Deacon had an amused look on his face. "They have an inside card on you, Andrew. And they have been playing it ever since you came to EPW. If you don't play ball, this person will become more obvious to you."
The story was finally unfolding. "The mystery man during my first match," I replied. "The guy that cost me my match. You guys sent him."
"You're good, Zanders. Too good maybe. You had a shot to maybe go all the way, and we couldn't allow that. Not until you were on our side. Besides, we had to get you afraid. Unfortunately, you've been turning fear into motivation. That has to stop. And it will."
"What are you going to do?"
Deacon turned to leave. "I'll do what I'm told, and so will you. And if you don't, you'll see what the consequences are."
As he left, I realized I was in some deep ****. Excuse my french.