OOC: Thanks to James Raven for this:



This is a continuation of "Big Fish", which can be found here: http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=28677

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Green-Wood Cemetery
Brooklyn
New York
12:37am

Jack Cain sits slumped against a gravestone, phone in hand, as he watches James Raven's press conference that was uploaded to the XWF YouTube Channel earlier that evening. It went up at pretty much the same time he'd had three of his teeth knocked out. He runs his tongue around the inside of mouth, gently feeling where two molars and one of his wisdom teeth used to be. He laughs to himself and winces, as the pain shoots through his temple and down his cheek. He coughs and feels blood bubble up from his chest into his throat, and spits it onto the floor. Even in the dim light it leaves a grimy black stain on the freshly cut grass, reminding him of the fact this isn't getting any easier. The wind blows cold across his face, stinging his one god eye, the other swollen shut from the beating he received earlier.

Propping up the phone on his knee, he reaches into his pocket and fishes out some painkillers. He hates taking them, but the headache isn't going away. He pops the lid and stares down at the last one in the bottle. He figures it's better than nothing and swallows it, closing his eyes against the breeze and leaning his head back against the cool stone.

He feels a throbbing in his sinuses, and can feel blood starting to trickle from his nose. He opens his eyes, and looks down at his calloused knuckles, flexing them and looking at the wounds that never healed. He finds himself staring at the laces on his boots. Wondering how they've lasted this long. He can't remember the last time he changed his boots, and these laces should have broken by now. But they haven't. No matter how tightly he ties them, how much stress he puts on them, they stay strong. They don't snap, and they keep doing their job.

Jack wipes the blood away from his face. He redials the number he called earlier in the night.

Hi, you've reached the phone of James Raven. Leave me a message, and I'll get back to you.

Jim? Jack again. Saw the shit you took over Gilmour... and to be honest pal - you did get fucked over with that. That's why I don't go in for any a'that shit. Don't wanna be sittin' in front of some snot nosed Calvin Klein boxer wearing hipsters who piss themselves when Starbucks runs outta decaf coffee.

The Gilmour thing? I know why I dragged you outta that hospital bed - and I gotta put on record that it wasn't your idea. You, like me, were just helpin' a guy out, and where did it get ya? A load a'shit from Lane and his dick tugger Silver. If you wanna play this to them, then fine. I've seen what's been goin' on, how Lane brought you in as his big gun, then fucked you about. You got every right to be pissed with him, and if he's laughin' at you, then I'll back ya.

Now you might not think you need my help, but let me tell ya somethin' that's pretty relevant to that, and our match.

I don't stop.

You hit the nail on the head there - boy did you get that right. You can punch me all you want. Kick me, stomp on me, smack me with a baseball bat, drag barbed wire over my head, run me over with a fuckin' Ferrari or whatever it is you drive - and I'm gonna keep on comin'.

But this ain't ego Jim - it's just what I do. Now I grant ya, I ain't been pullin' up any trees lately, but D'Ville left me in a pile of blood on that mat, and I got back up and came out the next week. Little Thaddeus socked me in the chops with some knuckle dusters, and I got back up and kept going. Neville Sinclair - well, let's just call him "Cheap Shot Nev" - he beat me too, but I got straight back up there again - and he's still pickin' pieces of glass outta his face.

Then ask The Ultimate, Obsidian Air, Super Mario and a whole list of others who I kicked the shit out of and never came back - well apart from Mario, but he sounds like he's brain damaged now, so I'm claimin' credit for that too - and even Thomas Nixon had to bring in some test tube Brock Lesnar to beat me - he couldn't do that on his own.

So yeah, you're right, I am like a tank, I keep goin' I force my way through any obstacle, and even after all the others I've just listed, you're still the biggest challenge I've faced. So I don't take you lightly.

I won't be doin' any laughin' like you think I will. I ain't gonna be takin' any pleasure in what I do to ya. Like I said before, strictly business - but I'm damned good at my job.

That job this week just happens to involve knockin' you offa your perch - and each step forward, while hesitant, will still be in your direction, and those steps ain't gonna stop while I'm still breathin'

That's how much this means to me. I gotta become better, I gotta be the man I used to be, I gotta be...

Somebody.

And you're a somebody Jim. Everyone tells me your THE guy. So don't it work that if I beat THE guy, then I'm up there?

Maybe it don't.

Maybe it means nothin'

Maybe my time's up.

Maybe you're gonna go in there and not show me any mercy.

That's fine by me. I ain't gonna show you any either, and I know that's what you want.

Last man standin' Jim. That's how it should be. Best man winnin' Almost poetic.

Cain gets to one knee, placing the phone down beside him. He notices one of his bootlaces is now loose. He starts to tie it - only for it to snap. He looks up at the stars, and picks up the phone once more.



Maybe it is my time Jim. Maybe it is - but if I go - it's gonna be a helluva show.

He hangs up.

Cain picks himself up off the floor, and starts to walk home, as the rain begins to fall around him.