Previously on Mark Flynn's Revenge

Quote:“Daddy…!”

“HEY. I HAVE NOT BEEN HANGING OUT WITH PETER GILMOUR, OKAY?”

Quote:"Fucking weird, Daddy."

Quote:Katie runs over to the pinned Flynn, drops down and looks him in the eyes.

"Wanna go to the movies?"

Suddenly, smoke rises up from where Flynn once was.

It slowly comes to rest on the ceiling and begins to spell out letters.

"Thursday at 7."

Quote:I figure you’d be a good guy to give him a talking-to.”

Quote:“You just don’t give enough of a shit to give him that talking-to.”

Quote:“Does this look good to you?”

Crack…

Sighs again.

“Yeah, it does.”

Quote:
”Mark…”

”…

Just the sound of her voice saying his name… Caused him to swoon…

”You’ve been a perfect gentleman. For some months now, you haven’t tried a thing… I’m really glad you respect me and who I am.”

”…That said, I want to fuck.”

Katie reaches behind her back… And with a twirl of her fingers, in a flash… She undoes the X-Treme belt around her chest.

And holds it up to Flynn’s stunned gaping mouth…

”And I think you want this… Don’t you?”

And now… the next chapter of Mark Flynn's Revenge
===========================================
Smackins' Residence, Detroit, MI- July 11th, 2014 - 10:00 AM
Birds chirping. An alarm clock beeps twice quietly, then a sleepy finger gently glides through the air and silences the device.

Flynn's eyes flutter open, a large smile of satisfaction crosses his face. golden sunshine shimmering from the window, onto Katie Smackins' face, her hair glimmering by the light of dawn.

Fuckin'.

Great way to start the day.

Flynn rolls out of bed gingerly, as to not awaken the woman he loves. Sporting naught but a pair of boxer shorts, he creeps along the way, stepping across discarded suit pieces and his pair of title belts laid onto the floor.

He tiptoes from her bedroom door into the hall... Gently... To maintain this brief state of absolute tranquility.

Flynn slips past into the bathroom, rests his hand on the knob. And with the subtlest pull, the door closes behind him without a creak.

"Hey Flynn."

Flynn looks to the source of the greeting. And turns white.

The hello came from the bathroom mirror. His reflection staring back at him... Also sporting nothing but a pair of boxers, an unkempt beard, a gleeful smile...

But in his reflection... Flynn saw himself... with midnight black eyes. Two perfect orbs of a single color... Like a nightmare.

The smile faded from Flynn's face.

And yet stayed on his reflection's…

“I think we need to have ourselves a chat…”

"Just you."

"And me."
=========================
Jesus Christ…

Crack’s head was throbbing. Hungover.

Consciousness the ultimate suffering.

He was suffocating under the wool blanket draped over his face… Yanking it off, desperate for a rush of oxygen to overtake his face…

At first, he was wondering why he was lying in bed naked…

Then his eyes accidentally gazed towards the corner of his room, his clothes gathered in a pile… Covered in blood and vomit…

And… yep, urine. Nude sleep makes sense…

Jesus… His every joint ached like fucking misery…

He rose from his bed like the Frankenstein’s Monster… Arms straight up… Spine straight… Groaning… Mouth too dead to form words…

The pulsating burning in his skull a reminder of all of the terrible choices he made last night…

The choice to drink a god-damned water-cooler full of vodka in one night so he’d stop feeling sorrow…

The choice to try and climb a refrigerator from the ground and break a chip into his skull from a bashing against a sink…

And the choice to love Katie Smackins…

…Fuck.

Crack crawled off the side of the bed, past the discarded clothes piles and alcohol stains… and made it outside...

He passed the bathroom, and made it to the room at the end of the hall…

To Katie’s room.

He knocked twice… Then, not hearing anything…pushed open the door with one hand, cradling the side of his head with the other.

“Hey… Katie… You in here?”

He calls in and, too late, sees a naked Katie Smackins lying on the bed, semi-awake.

His clumsy, fucked-up reflexes don’t help him react quickly, but his hand eventually reels up to his face and blocks his vision.

“Shit… sorry.”

It then dawns him that he walked into her room, in only his birthday suit.

He uses his other hand to block his… manhood… from view.

“And… uh, sorry about that…”

Katie yawns and smiles, pulling the blanket on her bed over her chest to limit her exposure. Voice sleepy, still sugar laced in every word.

“It’s okay… You knocked… Did you come here for clothes? I don’t think I have anything in my closet that would fit you.”

Crack, then squeezes the side of his head with the hand he’d use to avert his eyes.

“No… uh… Just wanted to say…Sorry, for all of last night. The vomiting and the maiming myself and the putting me in bed… I guess I really fucked up that date of yours, huh?”

Through the space between his fingers, he catches a wide grin from Katie.

“Nah, no big deal… Mark and I found a way to work things out last night.”

Crack squints… At first, confused.

Then, he catches a couple things in the room. Flynn’s suit…

Discarded over the side of the bed.

Two golden title belts from the XWF.

Crack takes a moment to add two and two.

…

And the answer four…

Causes him to snap.

Katie waves a hand to crack, before snapping to wake Crack from his stupor.

“…You okay, Crack?”

Crack… is silent.

He grabs a chair from the corner of the room.

“Hello? Crack? KRSH! Earth to Crack. KRSH!”

He walks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, Crack, wait, what are you doing?”

And then sticks the chair under the doorknob.

=========================
"Flynn. Mark Flynn. Marky Mark Flynnberg and his funky inflection."

"King of the Mid-Carders."

“Madness. Maniac. Overrated.”

“Mark.”

“It’s been a little while since we've discussed our arrangement.”

Flynn is frozen... Watching his reflection rattle off nonsense nicknames. Squinting confused... Slowly coming closer to the mirror...

Distance did not dispel the illusion. All it did was bring the image closer... Make his vision clearer.

A foot away. Staring himself in the face.

"It's been a while in general since we've sent a message your way, Flynn. D'ja forget about me?"

"You forget about old 'Free-Win'?"

“You forget about the manifestation of the voices living in your head?”

The reflection winks... And unveils Flynn's crescent moon smile...

Flynn feels at his face with his right hand... And finds his teeth. Smiling.

Flynn dashes for the door.
"No worries, Flynn. We have a little bit of time. You get your affairs in order, then we'll re-negotiate your... living expenses."
=========================================
Flynn throws the door open from the bathroom, in a cold sweat, like he just woke up from a fever dream…

“KIYAAAAAAAA!”

Flynn, out of sheer reflex, dips his head down into a roll…

As a baseball bat smashes in the frame of the door!! Splinters fly into the air, a large rectangular dent…

The bat splits through the frame, flies through the thin hallway and slams across the other side of the hall.

Flynn stares up at his attacker. The drunk from last night.

Crack. Naked. Wielding a baseball bat.

Mouth foaming like a rabid dog.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU.”

Flynn crabwalks back, trying to create distance between him and his insane attacker…

Before backing his head into a chair…

He turns, rubbing his skull… And finds a chair, locking Katie Smackins into her room…

A banging on the other side of the door.

“What was that?!? What the fuck is going on out there?!?”

“YOU HEAR THAT, ASSHOLE?!?!”

Flynn’s head revolves back to his attacker, spinning a bat like a god-damned samurai sword.

“THAT’S THE VOICE OF THE WOMAN I LOVE. THE WOMAN WHOSE HEART YOU STOLE!”

“AND WE ARE DUELING FOR HER HAND. LIKE HONORABLE MEN.”

Flynn’s eyes squint…

“If this is honorable duel, shouldn’t we both have weapons…?”

“…NOPE.”

Crack sprints down the hall, swinging wildly.

Flynn ducks another swing and charges Crack with a shoulder block to his gut…

Crack ignores the pain AND SWINGS DOWN ONTO FLYNN’S SPINE…

Flynn reels back in pain! Flopping onto his back to provide what little relief the carpet can..

Crack points a bat to Flynn’s chin, standing over him.

“AND NOW YOU DIE! AND I TAKE MY RIGHTFUL PLACE…WITH KATIE… FOR-”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, DO YOU HAVE AN ERECTION RIGHT NOW?!?”

Crack looks down. And sees that he’s flying his sail proud…

“THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??!?”

Suddenly, the mania has left his voice.

“I…I just woke up… It’s just morning wood. I didn-”

As Crack takes his eye of the prize, Flynn slips across the hall, cradling his spine.

And slips back into the bathroom, the lock clicking behind him…

…

Crack… finds himself tricked again…

Crack…

IS PISSED THE FUCK OFF…

He stands in front of the bathroom and begins furiously swinging his bat against the door.

“YOU GET THE FUCK OUT HERE AND DIE LIKE A MAN!!!”
===============================================
“Welcome back, Flynn.”

Flynn cradles his spine, pulling himself up by the bar of the sink.

“I see you’re in the middle of something. And normally, I'd let you handle your business on your own. But I think I’d like to help.”

Flynn hears the door start to cave in… Beating after beating after beating.

He looks into the mirror.

“I don’t really have time to work out details or contracts. What’s your game?”

His reflection smiles.

“Well, as you know, we’ve been pretty easy tenants. Just win the occasional belt, break open the occasional deserving skull, we bathe in glory, and you keep getting to exist…”

The door literally breaks off its hinges… As a face appears in the newly made gap between the frame and the door.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE’S CRACK!”

Flynn dives in front of the door!! It barely slams back into place…

“Sum up.”

Crack continues to beat the door behind him… As now, Flynn’s weakened spine is all that separates him from being beaten to death with a baseball bat…

The reflection mimics his actions, but seems disinterested as he performs them.

“Well. We were content to take on this backseat driver’s role. Then, you snapped.”

“I believe it was right before that ‘Leap of Faith’ thing.”

“You got yourself knocked out in the middle of destroying a grocery store.”

“We took over driving the Flynn-mobile."

“And we enjoyed it. A lot.”

Flynn’s eyes tighten, as the subject of his second-self's request begins to dawn on him.

“Fuck you.”

“FUCK ME?!? FUCK YOU!”

The door completely caves in in the middle.

The aluminum of the bat collides with Flynn’s skull.

And his vision goes fuzzy…

The voice stops coming from the reflection.

And instead, thousands…

Echo within his own head.

The knot in his skull from the baseball shot… Opening room for them to spill out…

“You know what? You’re right.”

“Before we can work out anything you and I…”

“I think we’re going to need to take you for another test drive…”

To be continued…