FAMELESS - Printable Version

FAMELESS - Printable Version

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FAMELESS - Doctor Louis D'Ville - 02-25-2017

004

FAME L E S S
The Dip into Obscurity

continued from WORTHLESS: Where We Belong

The heavy snow continued to pour down on the small mountain town as the young barmaid led the doctor down the narrow corridor. She had just closed up the bar and the two of them exited out the back where the lodging was. You can tell the bar was an add-on many years later to the original inn. The business expanded and a large loft was added upstairs to accommodate the keeper along with the bar and a large garage out front. The entire structure was one, all made with that rustic-look, the kind that the original part came with.

The old inn was further back and built down into the side of the bank. A bit opposite of your typical hotel, the office is on the top level where the rooms are separated by different stairwells down beneath. Each floor only had two rooms, except for the fifth and very bottom floor which had the old boiler room. Now it's just used for storage because all of the plumbing and heating comes from the new addition upstairs. It's at the ground level at the bottom of the bank and provides and emergency exit out into the wilderness if needed.

"Hopefully our accommodations suit ya... This is no Hilton, but we have beds!"

"More than I could ask for and far more than I expected tonight, my dear."

Doc follows the young barmaid, Tammy, down the windowless, doorless, narrow corridor. They reach the end and enter the office on the old side. She reaches for the couple of light switches and flicks them up, but nothing happens.

"Shit!"

She blushes and looks over to Doc, who just chuckles and grins back.

"No worries. What seems to be the trouble, my dear?"

"I dunno, no power. There's a breaker box in the garage... To be honest, we're hardly over here, I'm not sure why it would be off or tripped."

"That IS odd."

She goes behind the counter and pulls a flashlight from below and a room key from off the wall and sets them down.

"I'll head out and reset it. You can wait here for me or you can go ahead and head down yourself. Unless you're afraid of the dark."

Doc grins and grabs the key and flashlight from the counterop.

"Room #3?"

He asks, holding up and looking at the room key tagged "#3".

"Right. It's down two flights. Sorry, first floor is actually getting some work done to it."

She starts heading for the door back to the front.

"Everything should be down there. We keep it stocked and haven't had a visitor in quite a while. It's the season, ya know?"

She stands in the doorway and just her sexy silhouette fills it.

"Hopefully you won't need the flashlight the rest of the night, either. Like I said, I'll go out and see what's up and if we can't get power over here, we'll figure something to do with ya."

She giggles.

"I'm sure I'll manage just fine, my dear."

Doc turns around to face her, but she's gone. He looks down at the flashlight and flicks it on. Nothing. It takes a couple of presses before the light finally comes on and stays on. Doc chuckles to himself and shakes his head before continuing down the narrow stairwell to his quarters for the night.

He reaches the landing where the door to the first two rooms are and the second stairwell. Curiosity tugged on his pant leg and he turns the knob, but it's locked. He shrugs and continues on down the stairs. When he gets to the second landing, the door is busted.

And the first floor needed work?

The doc snickered again, shined the flashlight down the next flight of steps, the opened what was left of the door. It was half off it's hinges and drug across the floor with a groan. He shined the flashlight down another long corridor with two doors off from one another down the hallway. At the end of the hallway, however, he noticed a face.

The shitty flashlight the young barmaid provided Doc didn't do much but keep him from tripping over himself. He began to walk down the corridor and felt the side of the wall as reassuring guide.. About half way down as he reaches his room, he realized there was a person standing at the very end of the hallway past room #4. He was a very large, fat gentleman wearing brown coveralls. He hid his identity with a clown mask and stood there still without saying a word. Doc reaches into his pocket for the key, but stops and shines the flashlight up at he person's face.

"Hello, my friend!"

Doc says fearlessly with a smile. He hasn't yet realized his powerless state. Even almost freezing to death earlier, he still managed to forget he's not his normal self at the moment. He lowered the flashlight to the gentleman's side and seen the worn, chewed up Louisville slugger held tightly in his grasp. Doc's smile fades from the inside a bit and shares a stare with his masked friend down the hall for a moment. He reaches back into his pocket as the mystery man begins stomping down the hallway after him. Doc presses the button on the flashlight, but the light stays on. He presses it three then four more times, harder each time, and the light still stays on! The large baseball bat whiffs passed Doc's nose after he bends back at the latest moment. It smashes onto the floor and judging by the impact and the state of the boards afterwards, one wouldn't be surprised if this fellow kept it up he could do some serious damage.

Doc rolls behind the masked man and leaves the flashlight on the ground. He pulls the pocket knife he he stole from Gus, the truck driver, and buried it in the man's calf. He squeals like a stuck pig, drops the bat, and falls onto the ground.

"YOU CRAZY SUMBITCH!"

He cries and moans trying to reach back for the knife. Doc pulls it out before the huge man could contort his body around to reach it. He looks up and starts shimmying away from the doctor.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME! HELP!"

Doc kicks the man in the face, knocking him back. He places a boot on his chest, grabs the top of the mask, and rips it off. Nothing but pain and fear fill the man's face as tears swell up in his eyes as he looks up dazed at the doctor. It was one of the fellows occupying the bar when he first arrived. Never caught the gentleman's name, not like it matters now.

"Please, please don't hurt me!"

M E AN W H I L E . . .

"What's taking him so long?"

Dale, Tammy, and one other fellow all stand in the garage just off from the bar where the breaker box is located.

"I told you, both you AND Erik should have went with him. There's something strange about the guy, I don't like it."

"Yeah, he gave ME the creeps.

Tammy and Erik stood watching the door, waiting for their comrade to enter saying that the plan worked and the old timer is tied and locked up on the bottom floor.

"What the fuck are you talking about? He's ancient. Ethan may not be the sharpest tool, but he's definitely the strongest. We'd be lucky he didn't give the old guy a heart attack getting the jump on him in the dark like that."

"Like I said, there was something about him. The guy just showed up out of nowhere in the middle of one of the worst snow storms we've had!"

"So?"

"SO?! Don't be an idiot. You seen him. I mean, he was a little fucked up, but it didn't seem like walking however far up the road to the bar phased him much. It's fucking freezing, Dale."

"What are you suggesting?"

She stands in silence and crosses her arms. She sniffles a bit.

"I think you should go in there."

"Ethan can handle himself, especially dealing with that old man."

Tammy becomes even more uneasy.

"Then where is he?"

The other fellow steps forward and appears to be getting anxious, too.

"Yeah! Then where the fuck is he, Dale?!"

"Relax!"

Dale yells and shuts the two of them up.

"Listen. I drove up the road looking for this car in the ditch... I know it's been hell out here, but I was looking for something. This guy just didn't rub me right."

"Did you find it?"

"Fuck no I didn't find it."

He stares over at the breaker box.

"I found the truck down over the bank though."

"The truck with our shit?!"

"Yeah, smashed to fucking hell.... Wrecked. All of our shit scattered EVERYwhere."

Tammy and Erik both look to the ground.

"You think he was driving it? He said he knew nothing about it."

"FUCK what he said Tammy. Christ, you don't even know the mother fucker."

He looks at his watch then looks back up to his two comrades.

"No. I don't think he was the driver. I looked inside the truck, I mean, whoever the fucker was it wasn't him."

"Why not?"

"Cab was trashed with food and garbage. Like a fuckin' slob lived in it. This guy seemed to have a bit more etiquette than that... He doesn't come off as a truck driver to me anyway, and besides, you see his clothes? They're way to fucking big for him."

"Maybe he was homeless getting a ride."

"Maybe, or maybe he stole the fucking truck and wrecked the fucking thing. Homeless, maybe. Innocent? I don't know, the whole situation is fucked up to me."

"If he stole it, where was the driver? He would have reported it stolen by now, right?"

"You would think. Listen, there's a reason I sent Ethan down there to taken care of things this way..."

He looks at his watch again.

"Where the fuck is he?!"

BACK OVER AT THE INN . . .

A whistling whispers through the hallways of the old inn. A slow, low-pitched little tune that provides you and extra chill up your spine to go with the drafty walls. Doc sits in the hallway with his battered new friend who lies face down barely breathing.

Doc holds a cigarette between his fingers whistling away, as if he was waiting for more company.

"I don't think anyone would argue that I've been around the mill a few times."

He takes a puff and immediately just lets the smoke roll out.

"I've been around awhile. I've beaten the greats that people now don't even know. You know who they were, Trax. Don't get me wrong, either, you've given the credit where it was due. You know what I'm capable of. You KNOW to take me seriously and all without even facing me. Why wouldn't you? You've watched every match I've been in since you've joined this FINE federation and some even before."

Doc chuckles.

"Well, aren't you my number one fan?"

He takes another puff and spits the smoke out this tme. Gus's smokes must suck.

"You see, Trax, along with you, even the new comers around here know exactly who I am. Maybe that's that aura that you maybe don't see anymore, but everyone else does. Do you see anyone besides yourself picking fights with me? I mean, besides the three idiots from Havoc for the Tag Team Championship..."

Doc pulls one half of the Tag Team Titles out from behind himself and holds it up then shoves it back behind again.

"Yes, besides them. You all know the doctor's doors are ALWAYS open, correct? I tell them, Trax, but nobody listens. You've been the only one prancing around the chance to dance with the doctor. You've been talking about it for quite a while and don't tell me again that you've been busy. Like wasting all of our time with a recap of all of the opportunities that you've wasted.. All of the chances that slipped away... All of those unfortunate events. Tsk. Tsk. All the times that someone just..."

*SNAP*

"... got the 1-up on you. It IS a damn shame, Trax. I'll give you that. From the chamber to Gabe Reno, I feel real sorry for you. That's kind of what I meant by getting nowhere, by the way. You're trying to get somewhere, but you don't get there... You're trying to become UNIVERSAL Champion.... .... I don't see a belt. Get what I'm saying? You picking up what I'm putting down? Catching what I'm throwing? You could have a title shot each and every week and no one would care until you sealed the deal. In fact, the more times you line up a title shot, or the chance at a title shot, and fail to claim it, you look THAT much worse. Damn fool. This Wednesday will be a FINE example, as well. You're thriving for your position atop the mountain. You're demanding another chance to kick Chris Chaos, or whoever it is, from it and claim your spot again. After so many failed attempts you see the same light at the end of the tunnel that you seen last time. With a briefcase, you could sit and wait for your perfect opportunity. I love your optimism. I love your hope, but your chances went from existent to a pinch to naw in just a matter of this week's draw. Team strength my ass. I couldn't give a lesser damn who my partner is, who your partner is, who Peter Gilmour's partner is, Buronan's, or Michael Graves'. Just like I didn't in the first round. You could probably admit now that it didn't matter if Mister Graves was there or not, I would be here in the second round. Sure, he had most of the fun in the match against Nate Higgers, but let's get real here. Do you think it would have made a difference if he wasn't there? It doesn't matter if someone's in my corner or not, my friends, and if there is, it doesn't matter who it is. All that matters in this tournament right now is that I'm in it."

"But let's talk partners again anyway, Trax."

"It's funny you discredit all the credit that I've given to your's as of late. See, Robbie Bourbon understands his place around here and he's proud of it. Respect. He knows he can't compete at the level he would have to even imagine being the UNIVERSAL Champion. Mister Bourbon, you being content with your level of skill and place here in the XWF, I appreciate that you've made this event easy for all of us. There's a fine line around here of common sense that FEW people manage to see with their naked eyes. You may not be able to, but you at least recognize that it's there. You've tied up with the good doctor before, Mister Bourbon. You knew from the get-go that if what came to what, this tournament would have nothing for you. Kudos for your participation."

"You, Trax, unlike your partner... Do not understand your place. You put all of your credentials into a single UNIVERSAL Title reign. Peter Gilmour was a Universal Champion, too, you know. And like a thirteen-time Xtreme Champion, or some fucking thing. Bad ass, right? There's nothing you have in this place that you can hold over my head right now pal. You can pull Alexis Riot, whatEVER else out of your back pocket. It's only going to make you look that much more foolish when you're hopes and dreams are crushed under my boot. I've participated in over 40 events here in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. If you can get a thrill out of one or two of the six that someone may have walked away happier than I did, go for it, whether you had one over them or not. Keep reaching for the stars, Trax. Keep watching my old tapes, YouTube videos, what ever you do. Pay close attention to them and you'll realize that throughout my career here, nine times out of ten things have gone MY way. That's one thing that stands out about me, my friends, I usually get exactly what I want. Anyone that wants to stack accolades and credentials here may amount to more if you're counting with fingers, but every thing that I've done and every title that I've held was made THAT much greater. When I left the arena after Relentless II without my UNIVERSAL Championship, it began a NEW ERA, Trax. The dark cloud with my face that hovered over all of you worms drifted away and the sun shined on the XWF once again."

"What do you think it would take for me to get that stranglehold back I once had Trax? To extend my hand and place that same vice-grip on the throats of the competition around here. I already spoke of the aura that you can't see. If I have to prove myself again I will, but I don't think anyone will have too many arguments where Doctor Louis D'Ville stands these days. If YOU need proof that you are a just a mere rock on a moon in the vast UNIVERSE that I claim, you will have it. I'll show you the step I lost when I kick you in the face. I'll show you have I STILL have what it takes when I reach the finals of this tournament and take the prize at the end. I'll show you exactly why I am STILL KING."

Doc gets up off the ground and looks down at the fellow lying there and spits on him. He looks around a bit as he pulls his room key out of his pocket and unlocks the door with the #3 on it.

"Let me tell you a few things about KINGS around here. KING's are forever, my dear Trax. I have not and will not stop being one. I earned the name and title as KING of this place whether the UNIVERSAL Title is in my grasp or not. Now, you don't have to bow your head or grovel or anything, believe it or not, I don't expect that from you. Not yet anyway."

He giggles as he swings the door open and walks into another pitch dark room.

"Kidding, but you're going to feel my boot, Trax. Right on the top of your head, atop your raggedy hair. You'll feel it. It will be pushing you back down to the ground where you can either get back up, shucks, and try again. Or go home. This may be no place for an old man, but, you know I'm something SO MUCH more than that.

He pulls the flashlight from his back pocket and shines it around the room. The barmaid was right, there was a bed... That was about it. A table and another table. He walks back out of the room and wraps his hands around the fat fellow's shoulders and slowly drags him into the room. Doc huff and puffs a moment and takes a seat on the bed.

"Don't get me wrong or anything, you're not bad, but nobody really cares about Trax."

"Think about it. There's so many new up-and-comer's around here now, man, I think you've missed your chance. You've said it yourself, STAPLE, I'll never be forgotten about. You? Not so much. No one cares if they see Trax wearing that strap again. Maybe those fans you were talking about that, for some reason, want to see you get torn apart by me one-on-one. Are they going to attend your funeral, too, my friend? Those don't sound like very good fans to me, honestly. Of course, it will probably be pretty damn epic to watch, but they'll never see you again. Is it worth the cost?! I'm sure some little boy out there who has it rough and such looks up to you.... But anyone with any goals sure as frank doesn't. It's hard to look up to failure."

Doc gets up and looks down at the man who attacked him. He grabs him under the arms again and, with all of his might, pulls him onto the bed. He pulls the pocket knife from his pocket and looks at it for a moment and looks down at the man's throat.

"The power and ability to end all is still well within my reach, Mister Dominance. Almost like a flick of the wrist or the squeezing of my fist. Your self-entitlement, your cockiness, your courage, your relevance, and your fate are all within the palm of my hand."

He seems to debate as he holds the knife before he flicks off the flashlight leaving us in darkness. The sound amplifies as footsteps are heard followed by the closing of the door.