The car was racing along the interstate the Tampa skyline racing towards them.
"Take I 275, get off my old exit. I want to show her who the real hero's are."
Chris knew who the man was that attacked Michelle, he had seen him before. Some petty beach theif. He lived in Clearwater.
For those who don't know, there is a difference between Clearwater and Clearwater Beach. A BIG difference. A lot of Clearwater trash comes to the beach to run scams and rob rich people on vacation. Most of the time, unfortunately, they are successful. Chris didn't really care, I mean, make your money as long as you aren't taking his. He saved Michelle from this ordeal for one reason, and one reason only. He was going to open her eyes.
But this wasn't about Clearwater, this was about Tampa. They were already well out of Clearwater. This poor girl had never seen anything like she was about to see. Chris, hell, he lived it.
"You wanna get off Kennedy, MLK or Dale Mabry?"
The tinted windows made everything look clearer, as the glare from the brutal Florida sun couldn't get in. He could feel himself smiling, but his reflection was merely a shadow in the limo tinted glass. State legal, of course.
Michelle was gripping the handle above the window, her face pale white. Where were they taking her? What were their plans for her? They both seemed nice enough in the restaurant. Oh shit, this was really really bad.
They let her keep her phone, though. She could very easily call 911. If they were kidnapping her, they would have taken her phone, no? That was a bit of a relief for her. Didn't mean she still wasn't scared shitless.
The blonde man seemed crazy. He had a weird smile on his face. The old man, the driver, seemed like the more reasonable of the two but he didn't show any signs of not agreeing with the situation.
Oh god, was she going to die?
Chris was always dragging him into this shit. Why couldn't he just support him in the ring instead of going on all of these advetures? This poor girl was in the back seat, stiff as a board, and scared as hell. He didn't know what Chris had in mind, he never did. His former student had seemingly gone off the deep end, even more so than before.
What could he possibly have in mind?
"Take Kennedy. And step on it. Robbie is halfway to Charlottesville by now."
Not that it really mattered to him where the hell Robbie was. He was too concerned with being a good Samaritan with a dark side than he was focusing on a number one contenders match. Fuck him. Fuck him with a steel studded dildo.
Fuck him with an aids covered steel studded dildo.
Bruce got off at the exit you take to get to Kennedy. They were almost there. Turning to the nervous girl:
"I won't let anything happen to you. Just keep the door locked and the window closed."
The real estates was getting increasingly shitty. Houses with paint chipping and porches that were slanted from erosion. Trash was starting to show up on the streets now as the street sweepers didn't bother to come into these areas. Overgrown weeds plagued every sidewalk. Chain link fences were the only thing separating yards, and even those had wispy weeds intertwined through the holes. Many had spaces where the chain link had become disconnected over time. Street signs had part of the street names cut off, and some of the signs were bent.
There were old public pools, drained completely of water and were only holes now in the ground, also overgrown with weeds. The multi-colored pastel buildings that Florida has become known for were almost grey now. Old gas stations with their empty pumps and empty lots sprang up left and right, bars on all the windows that weren't boarded. Even the pavement had cracks in it, making the driver wonder if the limestone underneath was going to split open and swallow them whole like some sort of demonic mouth that leads to the esophagus of the underworld.
A grin couldn't be sustained. This was the real world. The beach, sure, is nice, but this is the real Florida. The real cess pool in the home of sun, fun and thieves.
"Drive slow down this block, I'd like to give our guest here a guided tour."
He heard his "guest" gulp a bit, though it seemed as though she was trying her hardest to keep subtle about it.
"Bruce, do you have a cigarette?'
The old man looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes had a look of confusion in them.
"You don't smoke....."the old man grumbled.
"No, but maybe our guest does."
There was a pause as he seemed to be searching his pocket for a pack.
"I saw it on Dog the Bounty Hunter.....they give their fugitive's cigarettes to calm them down on the ride into hell. This is the same thing, except she hasn't committed a crime outside of being ignorant to the true heros of the world."
"Dog the Bounty Hunter.....really......"
"Do you have one or not?"
Bruce reaches back, a cancer stick between his fingers.
Taking it from Bruce, along with a lighter, he offered it to the pretty girl sitting next to him. She shook her head slightly, so he set it on the seat next to her, patting it with his hand, in case she changed her mind.
As the area got increasing worse, her neveres were getting increasingly worse. Where the hell were they taking her? With all of these abandoned buildings, surely they could easily rape her----or worse---and get away without anyone knowing.
What was their plan?
Oh god.
Going over the scenario's in her head, she would attack the old man first and then maybe hope to outrun the blonde man. He seemed to be in good shape, though.
She hoped it wouldn't come to that, she silently prayed to herself.
The blonde had asked or a cigarette. She smoked, yes, but she didn't want a cigarette from him. For all she knew he poisoned it. Looking out the window, the neighborhood looked really rough now. Her parents had money, she had a two bedroom condo in Indian Rocks near the Bel Air border, this was not an area she would ever frequent. She didn't even like partying in Ybor City---and they were way away from Ybor now.
She started to see people on the streets, most of them looked like they hadn't bathed in days. The chain link fences....seemingly endless. What she would give right now for the white picket fences of Indian Rocks......
The girl was shaking. She hadn't seen anything yet. They were just getting to the edge of the worst ghetto's in Florida, in Chris's opinion. Eat your heart out Overtown and Liberty City, Tampa is called "Trigga City" for a reason. Cigar City, sure, maybe in Channelside. But down here, Trigga City is the truth. Preach.
As they went further down Kennedy Boulevard, he looked out the tinted window to find his first "subjects". He hadn't felt this way in some time. He felt good, like he was helping the naive girl twenty-something in the car, but also evil, like he was going to alter the already shitty lifestyles of these people for the worse.
Drugs, guns, money laundering. Hell, fake passports and ID's. You can find it all down here. This is essentially the "Dark Web" of the real world.
Pulling up to a gas station that looks more like a front than anything else, there was a group of guys bent around in a cirlce.....they were playing Cee Low. Craps. Street games.
"Bruce, stop the car."
He looked over at the girl in the next seat."You ready?"
She swallowed hard.
He had asked the girl if she was ready. Ready for what? Was he seriously going to throw this girl to the wolves?
Bruce had taught boxing down here, taken kids out of the hood and given them better lives in fight clubs---if you could consider that "better".
But this, this was suicide. Bruce, nine times out of ten, would have Chris's back and take Chris's side, but there was something tugging at him here that told him not to let her get out of the car. To stand up to Chris.
But something in him also did what Chris asked as he felt his foot slide left to the brake peddle as his luxury car rolled to a stop.
He exhaled, looking back through the rear view.
"Are you ready?"
His voice was serious, there was no waver in it.
Ready?
Was she ready for what? What could he possibly be talking about?
He nodded towards the men placing the dice game. She shook her head without much thought behind it.
"No."
The blonde man smiled at her. Only a smile. It was a gentle smile, not a crazy or an angry one. It seemed almost.......like he was happy she said no.
Was he testing her?
She began to shift in her seat and didn't know why she was doing it. Shifting like dog who has to go to the bathroom.
She could feel her saliva drying in her mouth and her stomach beginning to twist into tight knots that were approaching painful.
The sweat was cold, beading on her forehead.
"I'm---I'm not going out there. What is this, who are you? I'm not, I can't----"
He put his finger on her mouth with a "shhhhh" and a smile.
What the fuck?!
"Shhhhh". She was scared shitless, it was kind of cute. Her eyes were wide, and her body was lightly shaking.
"Get out of the car, and walk over to those men."
She shook her head again.
"Michelle......I am not asking you, I am saving you."
After a bit, impatience set in.
"Fine, I'll go with you. Would that make you feel better?"
She nodded sheepishly. He grabbed the handle of his door, and pushed it open. She did the same on her side. Their feet touched the cement outside simultaneously. Bruce watched on from the drivers seat. He knew these men were armed, most of them felons with nothing to lose. Chris looked back at him and winked.
Walking towards the men, a few of them noticed and stopped playing. A few of them stood up.
"Goddamn"said one of the men."Who is dis sweet lil thang?"
Another man pointed at her as well,"shawty in the wrong parta town 'less she like dat dark meat, nowhatimsayin?"
She immediately froze up, Chris all but dragged her forward.
"Gentlemen, this is Michelle."
The men cat called, they had all stopped playing dice now. Her face was flushed white.
"She in the wrong part of town, honkey."
"Honkey? What is this, the 1800's? No wonder Virginia is so fucked up. You people."
"YOU PEOPLE?"
"Relax. This is Michelle from Indian Rocks......and she is going to beat you in your dice game, and take your money."
The men laughed.
"You laugh now, but Michelle is the best cee low thrower on the gulf coast. Give her some dice."
The men looked at her, and handed her the dice."Pony up......shawty."
Chris threw down $500."I'll pay, she'll win anyway."
She froze up. He knew damn well she had never done this before, she didn't even know what this game was. The men were smoking home-rolled cigarettes with weed in them and drinking 40's from paper bags. Old English, Steel Reserve, all that happy stuff.
Her hands shook, even though her body was still.
"Michelle.......throw the dice."
"Michelle, throw the dice."
Was he serious? She had never done this before. These men were serious. What happened if she lost? The balcony above them was dripping, and looked like it may collapse on top of them at any moment. There were pieces of newspaper all over, as well as other assorted pieces of garbage.
"Michelle.......you do this all the time. Stop teasing these poor men, and throw the dice."
There was a bat sitting by the corner window of an abandoned store front. As well as a gun sitting on the step near one of the men.
Her hands shook, the dice rattled within them.
"Michelle.......throw......the........dice......"
Her hand moved almost involuntarily, she wasn't in control of what she was doing.
He was going to get this girl killed, had he lost his mind?
The girl shakily threw the dice, and it was as if everything went in slow motion as they hit the cement, rolling the best that squares can roll.
It was all unfolding before his eyes. Like the final scene from V for Vendetta, Chris charged. Boots to the face of two men. A spear through a storefront window. He could hear Michelle squeal with fear as one of the men took his gun out. Chris grabbed the bat in a slow motion movement, though in reality it was really quite fast, and smacked the gun, breaking the mans wrist and the gun went flying. A shot to the ribs with the bat, then one to the back of the head as the man bent down. He could have sworn he heard Chris tell the young waitress to take the money, all the money.
Just then a gun was placed to the back of the girls head. The only man left had snuck up behind the girl, wrapping an arm around her chest and neck and holding a .45 cal to her temple. But instead of panicking, Chris simply smiled.
"HELP!"she screamed. She still didn't know Chris's name. Chris dropped the bat, and began walking towards the car. Was he just going to let her die?
"HELP OH MY GOD!"
Just then, the girl kicked back like a distressed horse, hitting the man in the shin. He yelled out and moved back, and Chris came out of nowhere with a spear. The man was down, holding his ribs. He grabbed Michelle and they ran towards the car, getting in.
Without a second thought, he slammed the transmission into gear and they sped off down the road.
"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!"The girl was frantic."WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"
But remaining calm was most important here.
"It was a lesson, Michelle."
"Oh yeah? What the hell kind of lesson could almost getting us killed be?"
"You were scared, weren't you?"
"Umm......DUH!"
"Exactly, but even in the face of fear, you stepped up and got yourself out of it. You rose to the occasion. You took a seemingly impossible situation and you rose to the occasion. You spit in the face of your fear and you did something you never thought you would, or you could. That is lesson one....even when in hell, never doubt yourself or your abilities."
She looked at him like he had three heads, she was still shaking.
"You're a lunatic."
"No....I have never been more clear about something in my life. I am your hero, Michelle, I am saving you. Bruce---head down MLK."
The car rolled along, the engine humming quietly underneath them as the neighborhood got increasingly shittier.
"Robbie Bourbon wants to be a hero, he wants to fight the good fight. He wants to break up social issues in Virginia, find a mass murderer in a pink tuxedo, and be a dick to kids in the process. He is a complex one, for sure. But I have his number. On to the next lesson!"
"Wait....who is Robbie Bourbon?"
"....Eh....just some fat man-baby in a luchador mask......don't worry about him, let me do that. We have so much more to learn today!"
She gulped, he smiled.
She was going to die, she was sure of it. The neighborhood was really bad now. How could people live like this? Kids were everywhere, and many of them had tattered clothes and many of them looked like they were from third world countries. Part of her felt bad for these kids.
Mothers sat on porches smoking and watching their children run around in the street. Some of the kids had figured out how to split open a fire hydrant, and they were running, laughing, and splashing around in the rapidly shooting water. At least it was clean water.
Was it clean water?
There seemed to be increasingly less cop cars the further into this hell they drove. More and more people were staring at the luxury car as it rolled by. Something in her told her she was going to die today, but another part of her told her she had just stood up to an armed man, stole money, and survived.
She had survived Trigga City, at least for now.
The cigarette and lighter still sat on the seat next to her, in between her and the lunatic long haired blonde man.
My god, was that a couch outside on the lawn? Were there kids swimming in trash cans? How many cars were going to be on blocks? So far, she had counted seven.
She just wanted to get back to Indian Rocks. She didn't care how she did it. An idea came to her.....if only she could get out of this car.
"I have to pee".
The man who had, in her eyes "kidnapped" her, didn't flinch. He snapped his fingers and the older driver in the front handed back a Gatorade bottle.
Ummmm? No.
"You're not serious?"
"Serious as statue, toots. You really want to sit on a toilet seat anywhere around here? Not to mention finding a bathroom."
He couldn't be serious. He expected her to pee in a bottle in front of both of them. This was sick. He was sick.
"I'll hold it."
"Suit yourself, but you piss yourself and you are paying for the detailing."
Ugh.
Time seemed to stand still. She wasn't sure how long they had been driving, but it felt like days. Now, she really did have to pee.
Suddenly, the car slowed down and her blonde "tour guide" began talking.
"These people.......they all need a hero, no? No. Because they are their own heros. People governing people. You tell me that the single mother raising four kids on minimum wage from two different jobs and still managing to find time to get her nails done isn't a hero. You tell me that a father who stays with his kids, doesn't hit his baby momma, and sells drugs to compensate for legal income isn't a hero."
They weren't hero's, they were criminals.
"You tell me that people who do what they have to do to make ends meet aren't heros. You see, Michelle, your world has been clouded. You have lived 'the good life' so long, you don't even know what 'life' is anymore. When you kicked that man in the shin, even with a gun to your head, you never felt more alive, right?"
He did have a point. Somewhere deep down she found it exhilarating.
"You have never known what it is like to struggle. You never had to make your own bed, do the dishes, make dinner for the family, hell even do your own homework. You have been pampered and coddled. The entire world has bent over backwards for little Michelle."
Where was he going with this?
She couldn't hold her bladder back much longer, she was going to wet herself.
"Men like Robbie, they are illusions. They hate themselves, so therefore they need to find it within themselves to be something they are not. They need people to care about them. Do you think these people care if anyone cares about them? No. They care about themselves."
Okay, she REALLY needed to pee. She bit her lip.
"The deck is stacked against these people every day. The world is a cold place, where only the strong survive. Why bother going to find crime to fight when you can sit back and watch crime fight itself. There are no good people, Michelle. Everyone is is evil at heart, you just need to find the button to push to start it up like this car. Once the engine is running, there is no turning back. 60 minutes is lightspeed. These people have had a lifetime of suffering, where everyone has written them off, but they keep fighting, keep surviving. They find ways. They haven't been given a single thing. And, when they are down, and kicked while down, they always get back up because they don't have any other choice."
She felt a bit come out, warm inside her underwear.
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