WORTHLESS - Printable Version

WORTHLESS - Printable Version

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WORTHLESS - Doctor Louis D'Ville - 02-18-2017

003

WORTH L E S S
Where We Belong

continued from HELPLESS: Death is Sometimes Better

Few people could tell you about this small mountain town hidden away in the dense, snowy wilderness. Hardly a dot on any map, it belongs to a small community of folk where the population barely stretches past triple digits. There's only two ways to get there and that's the single road that passes through it. In the heart of the place is a strip mall and a saw mill. The strip mall has a combination of stores providing the folks with their only source of gas, groceries, or any other resources they can't provide themselves. Judging by the frigid temperatures in the middle of a mountain range, you wouldn't guess they would provide much for themselves. The goods show up once a month and they leave once a month as well. The logging company does well, for as small as it is, but the output isn't enough to send trucks up there more than once a month. So this place and these people are basically cut off from the world for most of their time. Across the road, is the main pulse of the small town; the sawmill. Over half of that small population spent everyday there, while the rest maintained the strip mall and the few other things going on.

Several avenues from the main road created growth for the small town. Instead of everyone cramming along the main road with their homes, they were all built further back away from the noise from the mill and the bustle from the few deliveries they would get. The homes all sat in pretty little rows, all with a fairly decent sized piece of land next to it. A few people went their own way and chose to go even further out of town, another family resided in the church, while one young girl operates and occupies a pub and inn just on the outskirts of town.

Imagining the size of this community is easy if you could imagine all of them fitting into one large church. Or perhaps, nearly everyone's child able to share one schoolhouse. Because it was so close knit, everyone shared the same values. They all had faith, they all had a place, and all did their part to maintain this extremely efficient society for what it was.

It didn't matter what night of the week it was in the small, snowy town, either. Every night, the same crowd, which was nearly everyone at the mill, met at the ol' Friendly Inn. It's past the strip mall, up the road from town, swing a left before the bridge, first bright light on the right. It's owned by one of the fellows in town, but ran by a young girl who, as we mentioned, also resides in a room off of the office upstairs. Down below is, of course, your typical drinking hole. The booze and liquor all come with the same barrage of trucks they get once a month, so imagine the stock pile of bottles and kegs they keep on hand at a time? Wouldn't that shit get skunked?! No matter. If they had a choice I'm sure it would be different. The logs shipping out once a month too probably barely cover the cost of anything coming into the place.

It's becoming late and the regular crowd in the Friendly thins out to just a few of the main regulars. The ones this poor girl has to force out each and every night like a couple of little kids. It was normal though. It's like every night they would forget to tell time and order drinks until the sun would come up the next day. There wasn't much law enforcement up there, so she probably could stay open all hours of the night if she wanted to... But she didn't want to. There was a Sheriff's Department with a couple of deputies to keep order and peace... But anything more would have been quite redundant.

"You boys plan on hanging out all night again?"

It's usually easy getting the bar empty. She begins to joke and harass them all long before the non-verbal 'Last Call', just in case it gets them out of there any sooner and she can go home to bed. They all look up at the clock and finished their mugs to order another. All but one, he holds up his hand and throws a couple of bucks onto the bar and gets up to leave.

"Hey, if you're leaving how about locking up for me?"

She says with a wink.

"I can't imagine anyone else coming in tonight. It's horrendous out there if you haven't seen."

"Yeah, it was putting it down when I got here."

One of the men spoke up.

"Shipment should've been here today. Logs went out, but the goods never came in."

Another said.

"No kidding? Maybe they were held up in the storm. It's odd though."

She reaches behind the bar and pulls a large ring with just a couple of keys on it out. She tosses it across the bar for the man to catch, which he doesn't. He fumbles them around on the floor before managing to pick them up and stumbles his way out. Just as he reaches to pull the door open, it swings open with a gust of wind and nearly blows him onto his back.

"Damn!"

He shouts and catches his balance. He double-takes the doorway as a dark, shadowy-hooded figure steps over the threshold. The hood pulls back and reveals a frail, sick-looking, old man. He coughs and shakes off the snow and cold as the other patrons turn around in their stools to see who it is. The old man removes the large coat and throws it behind him on the floor and looks to his audience with a smile.

"Hello, my friends!"

They sit in silence and remain all eyes on him.

"Well, hi there, stranger!"

The young barmaid yells out with a couple of taps on the bar to break her customers' trance. The old man steps around the patron that was leaving and makes his way towards the bar. He sits on the far end by himself and sits as most of the eyes in the place are on him. The barmaid starts walking over to him.

"It's freezing out there! What brings you in so late stranger?!"

One of the men from the other end shout over. The old man's smile never leaves his face.

"My vehicle slipped off the road a couple miles up... I'm lucky to be alive to be honest."

"You poor thing! Are you alright?!"

"Yes, dearest, I'm fine. I'm also lucky to find this fine establishment here."

"You weren't driving the truck up here were ya?"

"I'm sorry? Truck?"

"Don't mind him. We were expecting a shipment today and it's a little late. What can a get for you?"

"Bourbon on the rocks, my lady."

She heads to work and prepares the drink for the old stranger. The man with the question earlier leans into the bar a bit and gawks down towards him.

"Hey stranger!"

He yells. The barmaid slides the drink across the bar and takes the money left while the old man takes a sip while looking down at his new friend.

"Yes, sir?"

"What brings you this way then?"

The old man shrugs.

"Just a weary traveler looking for a place to rest, my friend. Is this not such a place?"

The barmaid sighs and pushes the patron back into his seat from across the bar.

"Would you fucking relax?"

The man pouts in his seat after being scolded and nurses his beer. The barmaid makes her way back down to the old man and returns the creepy smile that appears glued on his face.

"So, you probably need some help getting your car out right?"

"Oh, well, I already have arrangements in the morning to retrieve it and get it fixed."

"Oh! That's great! The name's Tammy, by the way, I run this little place."

"A most splendid little place it is, my dear!"

She giggles.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Lou."

He leans in.

"But my friends call me, 'Doc'."

"Doc, huh? Are you a doctor?"

"It's more of a nickname."

She laughs again.

"You look like a doctor. Kinda talk like on, too."

"Hey, Tammy! Can I get another beer here, please?!"

The fellow making conversation earlier shouts down her way interrupting the conversation. He's holding his dirty mug in the air signaling it's lack of content.

"Yes, Dale!"

She yells back with a sigh. She winks to Doc and pushes herself from the bar. A decent looking girl, probably in her mid twenties. Probably have to feel sorry for what she has to put up with night in and night out. It's doubtful that these gentlemen are much more than the thrill they've been this evening. Burly, bloated, mountain men with territorial issues.

After Tammy handles Dale's refill she makes her way back down, not before another fellow slams his dirty glass onto the bar, followed by another. She spins back around and grabs both with one hand, fills them together, and slings them back at them. She looks back at Doc down the bar.

"You probably need a place to stay right? There's open rooms here, in fact, they're all open. We don't get too many visitor's around here. I think the only reason this place is still open is because everyone in this town DRINKS..."

She emphasizes the last part of her sentence towards her couple of regulars beside her.

"The rooms aren't great, but they're cheap and if I would imagine you'd like a warm bed for the night."

"Sounds perfect, Miss Tammy."

Dale reaches across the bar and grabs Tammy by the arm before she walks away. He pulls her close and whispers to her..

"Are you seriously inviting some stranger to stay her tonight?"

She pulls away and pushes him back into his stool again.

"What the fuck do you think this is? I'm not inviting him to stay on my couch! Would you fucking grow up?!"

"He's creepier than fuck!"

She growls under her breath.

"Why don't you take your friends and go home, Dale? Didn't you lock the fucking door?"

She glares over to the fellow that was leaving when Doc showed up. He made himself comfortable again after the weird encounter and stuck around. He took the stone cold glare from Tammy as signal to continue down the path he started to.

Dale. He's obviously the tough type. If this mountain town has produced one drunk, closed-minded, redneck it's produced thousands. This particular one must have a liking for the young lady behind the bar, as he's awful protective. He took the hint as well and took his leave with the rest of the small group. It's not that they're leaving her completely unprotected. They're well away from the .38 behind the bar under the cash register. They're also well aware of the 9mm strapped to Tammy's leg. And they're also well aware that she shoots it, at minimum, on a weekly-basis. There isn't much else to do in a town crammed in some woods and mountains. Tammy loves her guns and loves to hunt. There aren't too many fellows in that small town that would fuck with her, which has made her a pretty perfect barmaid.

After Dale and his gang exit the building, she cleans up after their multi-hour bender and wipes the counter off with a towel.

"Where were you headed, Doc?"

She smiles and notices his bourbon is nearly empty as it jingles each he takes a sip. He wasn't exactly sure where he was headed. He pondered for a moment while stirring around the tiny ice cubes in his drink. An hour ago he was heading here, he supposed. The closest place with a drink. The closest place with shelter from this white hell.

"North on business."

She looks surprised as she heads back over.

"You're pretty far out of the way to be heading anywhere north, Doc. You think you might've gotten lost?"

Doc shrugs and finishes off his drink.

"Perhaps. This area is a bit unfamiliar to me, and the weather...."

"It gets nasty up here. I'm glad you found us, I'd hate for you to be stuck out in this mess right now. Not too many people venture out in this crap and come back to tell about it."

"Have some attempted that?"

The doctor chuckles a bit in disbelief.

"A lot of strange things have happened up here. Another?"

Doc looks down at his dirty glass.

"Not closing up?"

"It looks like you could use another drink."

A Few Hours Prior . . .

"Wait until you see this place up here, man. It's one of those places with just a gas station and a church. The Inn isn't too bad, either, if you fancy a drink."

The doctor sits shotgun in the cab of a semi hauling a large 18 foot trailer behind it. The driver is a stout fellow with a big orange beard. He found Doc along side of the round an hour or so ago. The guy hasn't shut up since.

"But don't expect anything special. They don't even got a MacDonald's up here... Not even sure they know what one is..."

Doc looks beat to shit. His clothes are torn apart and soaked. His face and hands are frostbitten and his feet are numb. The fellow next to him driving the truck, Gus, provided the good doctor with his winter jacket and blasted the heat for him to help him recover during the drive up the mountain. Gus was on a scheduled delivery and couldn't delay it at any cost. The town relied on what was in the truck and he explained to the doctor how important it was.

"I'm sure these folks'll help ya. They're pretty simple up here, but I'm sure someone will be able to patch you up and you can get your vehicle back on the road again."

Doc nods and smiles. The amount of time he spent alone in the wilderness took it's toll on his old body. He feels every bone in there aching and his skin burning from the extreme cold he had succumbed to. He hasn't spent that much time with Gus, but it's easy to tell why the guy's driving a truck. More brawn than brains for sure. Doc's looked the cab over and found nothing but empty candy wrappers and chip bags, fast food wrappers, and empty drink cartons.... Fucking slob....

"Hey! You gotta a be hungry, right?!"

Gus reaches behind the driver's seat and digs around in the several grocery and food bags that are back in his bunk. He pulls out a pack of peanuts and throws it over to Doc.

"Eat up! That should hold you over for a bit anyway, right?"

Doc smiles again and finally, after an hour, starts regaining the feeling back in his limbs.

"Thanks..."

He fumbles around with the package. Stupid thing. They make them to watch you struggle. Gus lifts up a butt cheek and reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a large pocket knife and exposes the blade.

"Here pal!"

He flashes the blade in front of Doc's face before he grabs it from his hand. Doc cuts into the package and fills his hand up and throws them in his mouth. He stares down at the blade before holding it up... Making it obvious that he was admiring it.

"You like that?"

"It is a finely crafted blade."

"Bought it on the road. Knife salesman I met at a truck stop a few years back. Finest knives in the world, man. Got 'er for a helluva deal, too!"

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Us travelers have our own method of trading, ya know?"

"Hm.. Do I want to know?"

Gus ponders on what Doc said for a moment and nearly has a stroke when he gets it.

"Now! No! Not what you mean, fella. I gotta a lady at home. Finest lady you'd ever seen. I don't---"

He drones on as the doctor stares out the window ignoring Gus's homophoebic defense.

"So how far is it?"

Gus stops mid-sentence as Doc cuts him off.

"What? The town? 'Nother hour prolly."

Doc groans to himself.

"You alright, old friend?"

"You wouldn't mind if we made a pitstop would you?"

"Gotta drain the lizard?"

Doc nods with a smile.

"Already running a little late cuz of this damn weather, but I suppose we could manage that. Let me find a good spot to pull off for ya."

Gus takes the truck about a half mile more up the road and pulls off.

"There you go, pick a tree!"

Gus parks the truck and hits the power lock on the the door. Doc opens his up and jumps out to the ground and walks a few feet of the road. Gus looks out his driver's side window to the other field and looks back noticing Doc left the door open. He sees him standing off the road not doing anything.

"Hey man! You born in a barn or what?! It's cold! Hurry up!"

Doc continues to stand still before he stumbles against the tree and falls to the ground. Gus watches him fall and his stomach jumps up to his chest as he jumps out of his truck.

"Hey man!"

He shouts as he rushes around the front and over to where Doc landed. He gets up to him and sees the old man clenching his chest and lying still.

"Awe man! You alright?!"

He reaches down and grabs Doc by the shoulders and shakes him off the ground. Doc takes the flailing for a moment before he produces the pocket knife from his pocket and buries it in the side of Gus's head. The large, burly fellow's eyes cross and start to bleed before he falls to his side into the snow. Doc stands up and brushes himself off as he walks over, places a boot on the side of Gus's head, and pulls out the knife. He sighs as he looks down at the dead body of his former companion and starts stripping the clothes off of him.

As Doc puts on the clothes that are obviously far too big for him, by at least three sizes, a large crash is heard in the distance. Trees and metal clash and grind together and comes to a squealing stop. Doc looks up the bunk and notices the truck is gone and sighs to himself. Looking at the nearly naked, dead Gus he shakes his head and crawls up the bank onto the road.

That's alright, it's been a millennium since I've driven anything anyway... Why start now? Doc thinks to himself. He follows the road down to the wreckage and crawls back down the back. The cab is completely destroyed and on it's side. The trailer is sitting at a ninety degree angle with the cab on it's side as well. Doc climbs up the cab and pulls the pack of cigarettes that still somehow remained fastened in the visor. He lights a cigarette while still int he cab and jumps back out to head back up to the road. It's still like a blizzard out here, but he's at least wearing some protection from it now.

As he huffs and puffs through each drag, the snow finally starts to let up a bit, allowing him to see at least a few feet in front of him now.

"Trax, how well do you think you know the good doctor?"

He continues to trudge down the side of the road.

"Hm? How much could you possibly know? We've crossed paths about two hundred times, but never settled our differences like we were supposed to. So, now is the time, is it? After Lethal Lottery you want the doctor man-to-man, one-on-one, to forever prove that you're the best to ever grace this FINE federation."

"That kind-of sounds boring, if you ask me. I never step away from a challenge, but isn't that UNIVERSAL Championship at a higher priority than little ol' me? Maybe go and score that before you step into a private session with the doc and make things a bit more interesting. I mean, you're the one producing this to be something super special. Might as well make it special for all of us and not just yourself, you selfish prick."

Doc finishes the cigarette and flicks it onto the road. His staggering footsteps have slowly gotten better since he landed out in this Winter Hell-mouth, but still follow a crooked path back and forth across the road.

"Let me slow down. We have to get past Lethal Lottery first, am I right? It's been an interesting enough tournament so far anyway. Wild cards, drop outs, participation awards... It's been a painless, yet sore sight, indeed. Do you know what was certain about round one, though? There was no doubt, not once, that Doctor Louis D'Ville was not advancing to the second round. Not a single person in their right mind would have placed that bet. You were in a similar situation, I suppose. Hero Xtreme is about as bottom teir'd as they come and I bet you're still thanking your lucky stars that Game Girl didn't upload. Had she been around I think you'd be asking for our private session a little sooner, I think."

"Good for you though, you made it, and you drew a decent partner along the way, too. See, unlike most of the roster and especially you, Trax, I AM a Bourbon-man. I support Robbie Bourbon. I even supported him more than my own partner in this round of Lethal Lottery! His reign as the XWF Hart Champion is one of the proudest reigns that the championship has ever seen! And have you seen him, my dear, Trax? He's proud of that. He's proud of being the guy to control THAT level of talent around here. He tried bouncing around with the big guys before and I'm pretty sure he took the hint long before he got hurt. Smart guy. The near suicide attempt he made that cost you in the Elimination Chamber? Smart. That will to do whatever it takes to win and grab a handful of tights to pin the NOW UNIVERSAL Champ?! Smart! Don't groan and bitch about your luck as of late like you do day in and day out, Trax. I don't want to hear it. Mister Bourbon is one of the most underrated XWF superstars there is, and let me tell you, that's A LOT better than being overrated. If anyone in this situation should be disappointed with their tag team partner, it should be him."

"Now, like I said, Round One of the Lotto was a bit of an eye-sore in some cases. A couple of upsets, some disappointments... What mostly matters, though, is who's here now. No matter of how they got there. Trax you look at my advancement in the tournament as though I don't deserve it. At least, that's what I'm picking up here. Mister Graves carried me, did he?"

"Seriously?"

"As much smoke you're blowing up my ass you'd think you could give me a bit more credit than that. Did you see the other corner? Nate Higgers and.............. Nobody. It was a handicapped match. If Graves has something to prove then why wouldn't I sit back and let him rip that redneck dumpster fire a new asshole? You seen you pinned the guy right? I did. I don't think there was much carrying involved. Are you just trying to make me feel bad or what? Do you really think I'm missing a step? You REALLY think there's no obstacle here and you're just headed straight for that briefcase? Get real, man. I've shut more people up around here than anyone. You want to throw the Chris Chaos victory at me? Have at it. The guy has something held over all of our heads right now. In due time, you can bet your last penny that he hasn't seen the last of Doctor D'Ville."

In the distance the doctor sees a lit up structure on the side of the road with several trucks parked out front. A relieving sigh leaves the doctor with his breath and he walks harder towards what he thinks is a neon sign in the window. This could be that pub that driver was talking about. The snow and wind begin to pick up again like before.

"You said it perfect yourself, Trax. I'm a staple around here. THE staple. What do people want to do when they come to the XWF? They want to be UNIVERSAL Champion... And they want to beat Doctor Louis D'Ville. You know what a victory over me will do for you. Chris Chaos squeaked by, scaled the mountain, and now he sits at the top. Jelly much? Thaddeus Duke tried the same thing, Trax. He seen the name. He seen the staple. He knew of the legacy and he chased after it, only to fall to his demise. He KNEW what the doctor was capable of and still stepped forward. Then FAILED. He'll tell you it's not a mortal wound, but I assure you it scarred. He will always remember the night that Doctor Louis D'Ville was better than him. If he's any Duke I know, however, he'll be back, and I'll be waiting. Havoc thought the same thing. They were more into the fact we were Tag Team Champions, which you can nit-pick at all you want. You can rag on me about the sudden disappearance of my partner, Unknown Soldier, as well. The fact of the matter is we're still the undisputed Tag Team Champions. If you have any doubts of our capabilities, your partner can surely update you on it. As worthless as Scully is, he was still Bourbon's partner the night that Soldier and I claimed our gold."

"Speaking of being worthless, while I've been sitting back and letting everyone else do the work for me, you've been sweating your ass off getting nowhere. This black cloud that's been hanging over your head lately couldn't have come at a worse time, Trax. After hearing excuse after excuse on why you're not UNIVERSAL Champion right now, let's change the tune a bit. Let's start discussing WHY you're not going to be Mister Lethal Lottery when this is all said and done. Let's talk about how Robbie Bourbon and Trax never even seen the third round. Let's hear about how it was Robbie Bourbon's fault once again that Trax just can't gain any traction. I can't wait until it's a real thing and you can look back and tell us all why you are where you are. Explain it over and over again for the following weeks until the tournament is over and I'm finally freed up to give you this dream match that you've been anticipating for months. Hopefully, you take those couple of weeks to reconsider what you're getting yourself into. If it's the FANS that really want this match, Trax, I wouldn't line yourself up for another failure. Maybe you should give them a little bit more time to recover after you lose here in round 2."

The doctor gets closer to the structure and confirms it is most definitely the pub the driver spoke of. Nothing like a couple shots of bourbon to warm up.

"Mister Bourbon, you and I are most definitely not strangers, are we? We've shared a session, you and I. We've crossed paths a couple of times, but never truly butted heads, have we? You see, Trax, you could take a few notes from your tag team partner here. As I stated before, Mister Bourbon is a VERY smart man. He learned his place VERY quickly in this FINE federation. A proud Hart Champion, indeed, and not expecting ANYTHING more. He's never searched for high pedestals or 'staples'. Of course, I just mentioned him stealing some impressive victories, but that's what is great about this place... Every dog seems to have his day, no matter how hard they can bite."

"We can all see and I can most definitely understand the disdain you have for your tag team partner. A self-centered, self-entitled, delusional, distrusting, blabber-jabbering, piece of.... work, am I right? He said he's more focused on you that he is me. Can you believe that? Now, it doesn't take a genius around here... I know we're short on them and all... But I think I come across as a bit more threatening than Robbie Bourbon. Maybe Trax is finally looking at the bigger picture and bringing my partner into the mix, as well. The President of the United States, Donald Trump. If he is? Well, maybe Hero's right about you because that'd be an enormous rookie mistake there... Eyes on me, people. Eyes on me."

"I'm like Trax, I don't bother much into politics. I kind of have my own to deal with most of the time... Donald Trump, the President, untrained, and surely unprepared to combat with the likes of pretty much.... anyone at our level, I suppose... Managed to escape round one unscathed, my friends. Far more unscathed that our opposition this week. The man is experienced in the wrestling world already and has plenty of time to get ready and advance with the good doctor to round three. He knows what it takes to get things done and gets them done, people. What more could you ask for?! One thing I AM going to prove to all of you this week, however, is that I don't need Donald Trump to defeat Robbie Bourbon and MISTER F'N DOMINANCE. Round 2, this match, is going to show the world WHO is going to win Lethal Lottery. It will be clear when I eliminate two of the obvious top couple of favorites left. The thing about Lethal Lottery is it's luck of the draw... You boys are more concerned of who you drew as a partner than who you're up against. Crap draw, my friends."

Every step becomes lighter as he's finally reached some ground that's been plowed in the last couple of hours. He uses a couple of vehicles to guide him the rest of the way up to the small porch. The door handle is within reach now as he pushes it open.