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Casey Jones · (10-27-2013)

OOC: apologies for my inactivity, I done been real fuckin' ill lately.

(RIP Lou)

Tyler's POV

When was the last time you saw Tyler Decker? Part of a mismatched failed alliance taking on the Black Circle? An alcoholic, enjoying a drunken spat with his father in the middle of the most dilapidated, disgusting, degraded part of a city? Is that really the legacy that I leave behind me? No one remembers the ‘glory days’. Hell, I even remember them myself. Something about being in a team with that cunt Hatcher. It all seems so long ago, when in actual fact it was less than a year. How times change. Now I’m a hired soldier of sorts. I don’t like the term ‘thug’. It never seems to do justice. I’m not a ‘thug’. I’m a Child. I don’t expect it to be easily understood. There’s something about Casey. I mean, I don’t trust the blind, scary looking window-lickers that follow him. Those weird bastards can stay the fuck away from me. Yeah, Casey wants us all to help him in a Lethal Lottery, but I’m not about to risk my beautiful fucking body for those weird twats. It’s funny, I remember the last time I was in a Lethal Lottery. It was supposed to be my defining moment, the final push I needed to become the best fucking wrestler in the XWF. That went down well, didn’t it? I became a fucking joke, someone that became exclusive to the ‘where are they now’ lists. They don’t want to know where I’ve fucking been.

---

The temperature outside wasn’t as cold as it may have been judged by my appearance. The coat that I was wearing was luxury Belstaff. Buying expensive clothes and not looking towards the long-term had always been my problem. Well, one of them, anyway. It had been a week since I had moved into a house for the first time in as long as I can remember, and let me tell you, it was a hell of a lot better than sleeping in a room filled with catatonic methheads. I looked up, the supposedly welcoming sight of the psychiatric offices sticking out like Boy George at a Klan rally. I found it hard to believe that poor bastards actually paid to go here. If it wasn’t the only thing that could help me find my feet again, so to speak, and help repay the loyalty that Casey had shown me, I wouldn’t have been within 5 miles of one of these places. Bad experiences flashed into my mind; the mental torment, the physical recovery, the seemingly endless, tedious sessions with numerous police-assigned doctors. To an outsider, I might appear as a psychopath. Was I actually? I didn’t have a fucking clue.

I moved into the building, and saw the same receptionist that always seemed to work the shifts during my sessions. The first time I had came, she had smiled, and welcomed me. That didn’t last long. Today she just raised her eyebrows and waved me through. I began to ascend the stairs, avoiding elevators as I always did. I reached the first floor, and noticed a dark, abandoned room. I opened the door and looked inside. The last time I had entered the room, there were pictures of family everywhere. Now there was nothing. The walls were bare, the room unfurnished apart from a desk in the middle of the room. I looked, and saw a letter lying on top of the desk.

‘Dear Dr McMichael’ it read.

‘Due to your failures with the patient Zachary Hysell, we have no choice but to terminate your contract. By letting the patient go, you almost violated a contract between us and the police department.

Thank you for your services, but they will no longer be required.

Yours,

Jonathan Collins’

I read and reread the letter, and felt something unfamiliar. I should have felt guilty, but for some, odd reason, I was fighting an desire to laugh. I looked into a corner, and noticed one smashed picture frame. In it, Dr McMichael was holding up a child. A grandchild, perhaps? I stared at the picture, motionless for a minute, before I picked it up and placed it on the desk. A small laugh escaped my lips as I left the room and began to climb the stairs once again.

I reached the top floor soon enough, and I knocked rapidly on the door. Almost immediately, Casey opened the door. That smile was on his face. I don’t know how he fucking manages it. It’s inhuman.

“Tyler, you made it!” he said with a smile. His tone was warm and welcoming, but there was an undeniable element of flatness to it. It intrigued me.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world” I responded. For once, contrary to the way it may seem, there was no sarcasm. It’s something quite new for me, but gradually I’m learning not to be a complete dick, especially to ‘decent’ folk like Casey.

“I’m glad to hear that. I was very impressed with your work last week...”

He pulled me inside, and motioned to the couch. There was something not quite right about him; he was different to the previous psychiatrist. The last guy had about 20 years on him, but Dr Jones, in terms of psychiatric ability, appeared to be his superior in every way. I sat down on the battered leather couch, and, not leaving his spinning chair, he wheeled himself to the desk. He looked at me.

“I trust you received the....present...I left for you downstairs?” he asked with an inquisitive smile.

“Yeah. I didn’t really get it though”

To my surprise, he just smiled at me.

“Did you feel anything, Tyler? Remorse? Guilt? Sadness?”

I looked at him carefully. He was hinting at something, but I couldn’t quite tell what. The thing about Casey was that, despite his genius, his techniques were unorthodox, to say the least.

“I didn’t really care, if I’m perfectly honest with you Doctor”

“Please, call me Casey” he responded, and he nodded at me slightly, as if in a moment of understanding.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel a thing. In fact, if anything, I found it amusing”

There was no use lying. This man, unlike all others, appeared to actually be trying to help me. Besides, I owed him a lot.

“I thought as much, Tyler. You recognise those inferior to you, don’t you? You know that you’re better than the rest. You’re a talented, intelligent man, Tyler.”

“Thank you...” I said slowly. He was a confusing man,

“Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Tyler?”

I stood and began to pace around the room. There it was again, the constant use of my first name. It was comforting, but at the same time it was unnerving, keeping my attention, if that makes sense. I looked out of the window; the view was undecidedly morbid. It seemed so.....gray. I wouldn’t have been surprised if all of the birds had taken that minute as an opportunity to commit a mass suicide, such was the aura of depression that the location emitted. Across the street an old lady was having cans thrown at the back of her head by tracksuit-wearing thugs with their caps turned backwards. She hurried up her pace, until it was almost a run. Before she could stop herself, she tripped, and was sent hurtling to the ground, landing awkwardly on her hip. She screamed in pain and cried, but received no sympathy from the thugs, who just pointed and laughed as she sobbed.

“You know, you interest me, Casey. I’ve had doctors before, but they’ve all been in it for the money. They’ve never actually helped me. To be honest, Casey, and this may just be my nature, but I often wonder what’s in it for you. Why are you doing this? Why did you get me that house? Why do you need me?”

Casey took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, before turning his kind gaze upon me again.

“Tyler, please take a seat” he said. It was almost like an instruction, but it came in such a gentle tone, that I didn’t even think twice about obliging.

“How was your Thanksgiving?” he asked, somewhat out of the blue. Immediately images of a dozen previous Thanksgivings pop into my head; ones I had spent with the families of previous characters. After all, that’s all that my aliases were; characters. This previous Thanksgiving had been a different story. I had done absolutely nothing. I had sat alone in my new house, I drank, and I watched shit reruns of old ‘80s TV shows. But to be honest, it was the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long, long time.

“I was bought a house” I replied shortly. The smile stayed on his face, but his next question puzzled me.

“Who bought you a house?”

“Uh, you did...”

Silence fell upon the room as he looked up at me, smiling.

“What we did last week really was special, Tyler. We beat the system. I’m not so sure they wanted us to win. Why else would they have teamed us with some...less than reputable names? But between us, we did it. Isn’t that remarkable?” he said. His voice lit up as he remembered, as if he was living it all over again.

He looked at me, before jotting a note down on the paper in front of him.

“That doesn’t explain why you bought me the house” I said, staring at him, but he didn’t return my gaze, and focused solely on the brown leather notebook that lay in front of him.

“Yes it does” he disagreed, without looking up.

“With all the respect in the world Casey...” I began.

“Kathi doesn’t know about your house, does she?

I didn’t respond, and just looked ahead at him. How did he know about my correspondence with her? Dax and River were both blissfully unaware, but somehow he knew. It confused and somewhat unnerved me. Eventually I shook my head slightly.

“Then you need to tell her. I see the way you look at her, Tyler. She’s a very pretty girl, and I think she’d do wonders for your confidence.”

I stood up once more and paced around the room. I hadn’t even began to attempt to romance her. She seemed so preoccupied with something....or someone...else. All I had managed to do was strike up a sort of friendship with her. I envisioned what it would be like if she found out at a later date. She would be enraged; her ‘Father’ had bought a house and, not only had she given it to someone else, but he had lied to her about it for an extended period of time? She’d probably kill me. Or herself. Either way, it was something I would like to avoid. Then I envisioned what it would be like if she found out now. She would want expect to be allowed to join me. To have more space away from everyone. But would it allow me to get closer to her? I highly, highly doubt it. She’s just waiting for someone, I can tell.

“No, it’s not worth it” I said quickly. I turn around and look at the doctor. To my surprise, he has a wry smile on his face.

“Now, I am not here to force you into doing anything, Tyler. I do, however, have this to say. We are one of the most feared, fabled organisations in the history of the world itself. The majority of people don’t know we exist, they just use us as a horror story to tell their children about. We are quick, we are efficient, we are loyal. Make no mistake, Tyler, I am not attempting to threaten you. As far as I can tell, you are one of my Children. I’d just like to ask you, Tyler, how do you presume that we operate so well?

I stared at him in silence for a while. For someone not attempting to threaten me, that was an awfully threatening speech. I contemplated his question, and, truth be told, I had no answer. With anyone else I’d probably have responded with something quick and witty, or been rude and obnoxious. With him though, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I have no idea” I eventually said.

The smile stayed on his face.

“Cooperation.”

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