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PlaceMarker The Welcome.
11-25-2017, 11:58 PM
Post: #1
Sorry, I'm just going to include a song here, I know the timeline is past, so just tell me if that's okay, if it's not I'll remove it.

Jackson allows himself a smirk, as he sees Danny walk out with the suitcase in hand. He knew this was coming, it had been building up to it. The Danny he knew was gone, at least for now, and the boy needed to go out there and really discover this all for himself. He knew that. That’s why he packed the suitcase out. That’s also why there’s a little bug in there so that he knew where Danny was, all the time. Danny had to go discover himself, but not completely alone, oh hell no.

Just then, Rhiannon walks out from the kitchen, the scent of Danny still in the air, and the door still open behind him. Danny never did close the door behind him.

”Where’s he going?”

”He’s leaving.”

”What do you m- Son of a bitch.”

Rhiannon makes a move towards the door, towards Danny, but is stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.

”I even sent him packing with his favourite band tees and a couple of suits, since crazy boy has to look good and all.”

Rhiannon spun around, tilting her head up to look at the much larger Jackson.

”The fuck. You knew he was leaving and you let him? THE BOYS INSANE. We can’t just let him roam the streets of New York on his own, unmonitored.”

Jackson chuckles at her assumption. Rhiannon narrows her eyes questioningly.

”He’s not unmonitored.”

Jackson shakes his head once, taking a sip of whiskey out of a glass in his hand.

”And he doesn’t know it?”

Jackson looks at her pointedly.

”Of course he doesn’t, he’s a dunce even when there’s only one voice in his head.”

”I overheard him muttering, somethings changed, He seemed almost…”

”More of an asshole?”

”Hah, no, I was going to say… At peace.”

Rhiannon’s left eyebrow slowly arches up.

”What do you mean, at peace, how’s anyone at peace when there’s a lunatic running their body.”

Jackson shakes his head and takes another sip.

”He’s got you believing that bullshit too now?”


”There isn’t anyone ‘else’, Rhi. That’s all him. The slightly eccentric Danny who’s into Gymnastics and jamming out on Megaman? Him. The lunatic who’s first reaction was to shriek in glee when he tumbled off those rafters? Him. We just couldn’t see it, and neither could Danny.”

“He’s ill, that’s it.”

“Sure, I’m sure some psychiatrist would say something about mental disorders, but he’s just a confused little boy that hasn’t realized what he really is. Who he really is. Hopefully this little vacation will teach him that. With us monitoring him… Of course.”

Rhiannon looks Jackson in the eye, before giving him a quick hug, a rogue tear on her face. The sudden physical interaction throws Jackson off, his body tensing before he relaxes. He slowly gives her a hug back.

”I hope so Jackson, I hope so.”

Mr Imperial walked through the streets of New York, eyes always looking at something in the distance. His body moved on autopilot. He owned a studio apartment build into an cathedral, he knew he was supposed to throw it all away but a hot shower was necessary, he’d throw everything else away.

His feet took him through the Bronx, faintly in the back of his mind was the aching pain of his feet. He’d been walking for hours at this point, there were sounds all around him but all he could hear was the sound his boots made against the concrete with every step. The steel and glass buildings turned into brownstones, before turning into concrete and then prefab. Discarded Starbucks cups turned into Mcdonalds wrappers before they too were replaced by, he could swear, a bunch of discarded condoms. Visibly used.

”Where the fuck do you think ya’ going?”

Mr Imperial knew his destination was nearby, why the fuck had he bought a place here again? It smelt like desperation.

”Yo, fuckface, I’m talkin’ to you. Ya’ll see this bitchass nigga? He’s has a case on him and some bling.”

The sound of boots on concrete came to a stop.

”Oi, the WWF convention thattaway. Why don’t ya put yo’ shit on the floor and head that way, huh? Ya can keep the belt. Makes you look pretty.”

Mr. Imperial could hear the chuckles of a few others, three, four maybe?

”Sorry, you think I look pretty?

”Bitch speaks, ya like that huh? Well fuck off, we don’t do that bum shit up her’”

Mr. Imperial chuckles himself, before putting the suitcase down, laying the belt on top of it.

”There a good bitch, now walk away.”

Mr Imperial turns around to face the man talking to him. He was wrong, there were about seven of them. All clad in hoodies with either a basketball team or a football logo on them. Clippers, Giants, Jets. The man talking had one edge of his hoody pulled up a little, revealing a piece slotted into his waistband.

”Did I ask you turn around, fuck? Walk away pretty boy.”

Mr Imperial shakes his head once.

“Do you need glasses, friend? You’re head is about the same size as one of these biceps, not to sound like a gym rat, but that’s just bad decision making.”

The man looks at Imperial incredulously laughing out loud, joined by the six of his friends. After about five seconds, he stops, grin turning into a grimace and his handgun was suddenly in his hand.

”Do I need to fuckin’ repeat myself. Fuck off, leave that pretty watch too.”

Mr Imperial chuckles, taking two steps towards the man. He hears a click.


“How about we talk deals, friend. How much you make a day mugging people on the street? Two, three… Ten thousand dollars a week?”

”Woudn’t you like to know, I ball out fam.”

”Oh I’m sure you do, friend. How about I give you ten thousand dollars right now, I’ll have to transfer it to you though, of course I don’t walk around with that kind of money, what if I got mugged right? Hah.”

”Shut the fuck up and piss the fuck off before I blow yo’ tongue off.”

”Twenty, thousand dollars. If one of you bitches can take me out with your fists.”

The gang goes silent. Looking at each other in confusion.

”You heard me, little fight. No guns of course, That’s no fun.”

They whisper to each other a little, the gun lowers slightly from it’s being pointed at them.

Mr. Imperial takes a step forward.

With a crack, a wrist is broken, and the gun changes hands, pointed at who was once doing the pointing.

He screams with rage and pain, clutching his broken wrist as a few of his friends whip out their own weapons.


”Just needed to even this fight out, My deals still on the table, but even one of you touch that trigger, I’ll blow his head all over the carpet.”

”What, you’re being serious about the money?”

”Yes, silly, of course I’m being serious. I just didn’t want to be the only guy with a gun pointed at his face, thought this was fair. Sorry about the wrist, guess you can’t fight, can you? Maybe you can keep score, take some pictures for the gram perhaps?”

They confer with each other once more, before they turn to face him.

”Aight, Kel will take you.”

Mr Imperial breaks into a laugh, clapping his hands in joy.

”Wonderful! Ill just keep this piece ready, incase… You know, one of you get jumpy.”

A man, about 6 foot tall, muscled up, takes off his hoody, throwing it at a friend of his. Tattoos were painted all over his body, from the name of supposedly an ex-girlfriend to skulls and a few daggers. Nothing too original. He took a step towards Imperial, before swinging a fist at him.

Imperial ducks under the hand, wrapping a palm around his wrist, and slamming his forearm into the underside of the elbow. A loud crack wrings out, and the hand bends unnaturally. Imperial grabs him by the waistcoat and shoves him towards the rest of them before he can even scream.

The big man, Kel, tumbles into his friends taking two of them to the floor, with the others off balance. Imperial quickly follows up on this, slamming his palm into one man’s windpipe, grinning at the satisfying pop it produces. His leg swings out from behind him, taking his body into a twirl as his heel slams into the side of another’s head, causing the kids eyes to roll back. One of the thugs shakes off his daze, the only other guy standing as the other two are pinned under the first guy. He charges towards Imperial, but Danny goes low, hitting him in the knees with a drop kick. With a grunt, he feels his knees snap, causing him to fall forward and slam his head into the pavement.

Mr. Imperial giggles to himself, mounting kel, who’s still on the floor and pinning the other two under him. Danny hits the guy to the right with a hook, following it up with a strike to the nose to the guy on the left, flowing gracefully into a double axe handle into Kel’s face right between them. All three lie motionless, as Danny gets up, and turns around. A mixture of their blood is splattered across his white sleeves, just the tip peaking out from his black suit jacket. The original guy who’s spoken to him is still holding his wrist, trembling slightly as he looks at what’s left of his gang.

”Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. What’re you some kinda Jason Bourne mother fucker?! You finna pay for this shit.”

Danny pulls out the pistol from his waistband, pointing it at the man.

”Shut the fuck up.”

”You see here, this is why I knew it was good to leave. Outside in the real world we get to feed our hunger, wet our appetites and really warm up for this Sunday. I think I really needed this… Break, you know?

It doesn’t matter who is in that ring with me, Chaos, Caedus, BWP, Oz.. Hell, anyone. At the end of the day, you’re all just little irrelevant thugs on the street that exist to feed me. You just exist to try and dampen my insatiable hunger.

Danny and I are no longer two, there’s no more confusion, no more pain. We’re good. And we can’t wait to see you all on Sunday.”

Think before you speak.

[Image: werwolves-eyes-for-Jason-Momoa.gif]
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