Flames flicker in black & white. They play on a small television. It's a local news broadcast. Peter sits in a small chair in a spartan hallway, watching the wall-mounted TV --
On the screen we see a apartment complex engulfed in flames. Fire trucks on the scene. Panic in progress as bystanders are running everywhere.
And the newscast is interrupted as Peter looks up to see a older, Japanese man with thinning gray hair. He's dressed in a white lab coat.
"Mr. Lake? Will you follow me, please?"
The last thing in the world that Peter wants to do is follow this man.
They walk along the corridor. It's depressing -- flickering fluorescent lights. Worn paint job.
"There are ways we can make it easier for you. We can take a photograph if you'd prefer…"
"No, I want to see her."
The two reach three stainless steel doors -- freezers. The doctor pulls open the middle one.
Peter's eyes follow the doctor.
INSIDE.
A GURNEY waits. ON IT,
A BODYBAG.
The doctor looks at Peter one last time.
Then slowly, he pulls down the bag's zipper, revealing the body inside, and of course it's --
PETER'S SISTER.
Lifeless, but still striking in a subdued beauty type of way.
"That's her."
"I'm very sorry."
"What happened?"
"It's probably best not to know the details, Mr…"
"--what happened?"
And as the doctor begins to speak, every second brings more emotion. A deeper sense of pain and loss. It's devastating.
"The police found her in an alley in Kings Cross. There was no identification, so they brought her here. Our tox screen showed high levels of blood alcohol content. After further evaluation we determined cause of death was what looked like blunt force trauma to the head."
The words don't register yet. They sit and they wait. This may be the single most devastating moment of his life. He turns, hand to the back of his mouth as a single tear drops from his eye.
I'm sending this out from my hotel room here in San Diego. I thought about going outside today, but damn this heat. I think I'm going a bit stir crazy sitting around waiting for Wednesday to get here.
I guess you could say that I'm excited by the prospect of competition. I have no delusions that it's going to be a long night. There's a some good competition in this gauntlet thing, and then there's Ricky Desmond and Russell Mania.
Everything went well finally meeting management and getting a deal signed. I'm starting to wonder how I'll adapt to being back on the road. It's a lonely place, but I don't have to tell you that.
I thought I could pass the time watching a Ricky Desmond promo, but I decided to call my dentist up and schedule that root canal instead. I sincerely hope this guy isn't on the payroll. He's a waste of time and expenses. Let's call it a wrap Ricky and shutdown shop on you and your office in the janitor's closet.
Oh wait. That's right. I don't know you, do I Ricky?
See that's where you're wrong. I do know you. I see you everyday. You're one of these glad-handing motherfuckers filling the world with your bile and garbage. You're killing us. So please take yourself and promptly go suck on a tailpipe and do us all a favor.
Somebody in the back doesn't like you?
Hell, I just got here and already think you're so far down on anyone's radar that the last time Madison saw you he literally turned to the closest person and said, "I thought I fired his ass."
I don't comprehend what's going to happen on Warfare?
I think you're going to come out and fall on your face, Ricky. Y'know, business as usual. And if by the power of grayskull you do advance let's just say you can bet your bottom dollar I'm going to kick your ass.
Wait, hang on. I forgot you're a natural fighter. Do you have that on a plaque somewhere? Do you hang it next to your certificates for Tae Bo and DDP Yoga?
But seriously, take yourself and your little KC and the Sunshine Band of merri-idiots and form a suicide pact. We'll all be better off.
Speaking of idiots… Russell Mania everyone!
Russ, I really liked how you made a three minute joke about my last name. It's good to see you're really getting a lot out of that ninth grade education of yours. I was so personally offended you called me Peter River that I about cried one.
How about this? You take that cum catcher mustache of yours, get into your rape van and promptly disappear back to your naked puzzle basement for good.
Side note for you, Russ. I just blinked and I noticed your career is still fucking over.
Additional side note. Mr. Satellite has more talent in his pinky than you do in your entire body.
So I'm a mark for the guy, big fucking deal.
I'm also really into 30 Seconds from Mars too.
Shoot me.
TWO YEARS AGO
TOKYO, JAPAN
He was having a dream about floating down a river on his back. It was peaceful in its simplicity. A loud knock at his hotel door snapped him out of it and he rolled over onto his side. The clock on the nightstand said 3:17am. He sighed and pulled on his t-shirt and walked barefoot to the door.
He slid the deadbolt aside and opened the door. There was a cool draft from the hallway and he crossed his arms for warmth. A young girl, American, was on the other side. She had long, dark hair and hazel colored eyes. He could smell the alcohol coming off her, but yet her composure seemed quite lucid.
"You're him," she said.
"Uh, depends on who 'him' is," he replied.
"Your Morgan's brother."
He froze, the sound of her name keeping him there frozen still in the doorway. It was almost too soon to hear it again. The startling nature of him made him angry.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Cassie… a friend of hers. We met a few years ago, we shared a hostel."
"How did you find me?"
"I've been looking for you since Morgan died."
"Yeah, how come?"
"I think I know who killed her."
I don't know where you'll be when you read this.
Maybe you won't even take the time. I guess it's not important anymore. It's kind of a shame that you and I will never get the chance to meet face to face.
But that's okay. I don't think you'd like me anyway.
You're different now.
More perfect than you ever were before.
Because revenge is never about just one person.
It's about the collective.
So, you mustn't give up.
You spend your entire life believing the lie.
But that's just the redirect.
I wonder if they're going to be surprised when you find them.
I want you to savor this moment, Pete.
Because when it's gone there's no getting it back. Just like your old life.
I just want you to know I'm so proud of you. There's no one left who cares about you to say it, so I'll do it for them.
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