Chapter One
The cold, dead eyes stared back at him. Sunken in, deep in the within the sockets, trying to hide into the skull. Blackened skin ringed the gel orbs with a thin line. He hated the look he was receiving, being looked upon with scorn and disdain by someone he hated so much. "I hate you," he mouthed, the barest of air escaping his mouth, the slightest blurt of fog spilling on the the glass in a circle. He wanted to shatter the glass into a million pieces, reach in and drag the "man" out to where he could punish him the way he deserve to be, with sheer and blinding violence.
The red tinted bottle in his hand, tipped forward to spill out a single capsule into his cupped palm of the other hand. He look disgusted at the green thing he was holding, a blow to his confidence that he could be so weak as to need such a thing, making him feel less of a man. He would have stopped taking them entirely had Melissa not been keeping track of how many were left after each day. He loved her to death, but he wished she would let him sink down and fall into the abyss of depression. Let it consume him and swallow him whole. Other then her, no one would miss the fact that he was even gone. Yet, with all of his self loathing, she refused to allow him to give up so easily, keeping him clutched at strands for life.
The bottle rested on its bottom upon the white porcelain of the sink, replacing it with the clear, stubby glass now in his hand. The capsule toss into his mouth, resting on the rough, saliva covered tongue, a tidal wave of water from the glass rushing down to float the pill on its surface and carry it down his throat. It felt like a bomb going of his chest, a dirty bomb explosion from within him, blowing apart his confidence, his self-esteem vaporizing.
How do you frighten a man who is not afraid of death? You cannot, the very idea would be impossible. How would the fear of loss be inspired within someone that has nothing left to lose? That was what was going to be X-ecutioner's problem when facing him. He was still under the assumption that he was still facing the Xavier Michaels of the past. The one that had loved life, loved the woman that was Riley Frost and that knew the feeling of fear.
Going through hell has a way of changing your perspective on things. He had loved, lost and would have done anything to keep the pain of loss from happening. Now, however, there was nothing left to lose, and the view things he had left to remind him he was still alive were no problem to care for and protect. Melissa could take care of herself, he knew that much. She was strong and independent at times, defying the stereotype of the weak little sister that needed her brother's help with everything. She was the one that had come to him, developing the brother/sister relationship into what it was now, so he he had no need to fear that she would let society's rules deter her.
And pain? Pain was something he had learned to laugh at, finding humor in the fact that some claimed to know what it was like to hurt. Kicked around? Big fucking deal, try being burned alive, waking up from a coma to find out you were divorced. Making the reason you suffered the fate you were forced to endure stupid and foolish. Sometimes love can be a fickle bitch that runs away at the slightest sign of trouble, other times it could survive the most searing heat, it all depended on the person. Riley had be one, Melissa another. Melissa had visited and sat by his bedside for hours on end daily, while Riley decided to cut and run and leave him a tortured monster.
X-ecutioner and the rest of his Red Cellulites wanted control just like everyone else would. He despised Victor Von Doom, he had been the man responsible for burning him, turning him into the disfigured freak that he was now, but it was a choice between the devil you know and the devil you do not. Everyone wants power, it's in humanity's nature to crave it, strive for it, kill for it. Red Cell made it clear they had no qualms about causing destruction. They are terrorists, plain and simple fact of it. The only difference between Victor Von Doom and X-ecutioner being that at least Victor did not parade a false banner of having the best of intentions.
It was the year 1918, and ESW had turned into pre-Soviet Moscow. The Communists were marching in the street, fanatics rioting and looting. There were promises of a better ESW, a People's ESW so to speak. False promises, ones that will never be kept because of the simple fact that they would be impossible to be fulfilled. No one can receive an automatic title shot, there will always be the haves and the have-nots. In the end, they were nothing more then simple politicians with terrorist tactics. "Follow me and I promise that things will be better," they would say. Oh how disappointed all their acolytes will be when they realized that a Red Cell in power is no better if not worse then the Von Doom regime, corrupt and ineffective.
Xavier Michaels wanted nor did he need any help from any fulfilled promises Red Cell intended to give. Empty lies. He was more then capable of getting the job done himself rather then follow along to the beating of the monotonous drum of Red Cell. As far as he was concerned, those who had joined their ranks or eventually would were weak, spineless flies that begged for advantages to be handed over to them rather then stand up, reach out and grab the opportunity. "Please, Mr. Grant, I'd like some more. Taking the usual fucking in the ass? Why sure. If Dan could go through it, so could I."
Members of Red Cell, stand up for yourselves instead of following behind someone else. Take charge instead of taking it in the ass. That was Xavier's motto. The only person you need to make something of yourself with a good set of testicles. Take that fear of failure, swallow it whole and shit it out after reducing it to nothing left, only shall remain. If the past year had taught Xavier anything, it was that fear was for the timid and the weak, those to be crushed underfoot by the strong and those without fear.
Pain had rid him of his fear, so much so that he did not even fear his own death anymore. It had been a source of inspiration, running head long into it, hoping for the release he so wished for after discovering the thing he had become. This was the Xavier Michaels that X-ecutioner would be facing this time. Gone were the days of him being weak and full of fear, now replaced by the man that used fear to weaken others, crippling them enough to be easy prey.
Hate, anger, rage, they were his allies now. Men like Kameron Chase merely made his goals easier to achieve, serving as a distraction for his rivals, leaving a flank open for his blitzing attack. He was a fool for turning his back on Victor Von Doom last year. That was the strong Xavier that was no returning to rear its monstrous head, leaving the rest of ESW to cower in fear.
The empty glass rested upon the side of the sink, sitting next to the plastic prescription bottle, droplets still left isolated from each on the glass' surface and the rest of the body of water. "I hate you," he repeated again to the mirror before turning away and leaving the bathroom. A television sounded from downstairs, hearing the voices speaking as he walked down the stairs winding against the wall.
Melissa sat in the living room, only half listening to the voices coming from the speakers. Bottoms of her bare feet resting against the ledge of the table in front of her, resting back against the couch as she stared into the textbook propped against her thighs angled upwards. Her brown eyes glowed as she turned her head to him, magnified by the glass lenses framing them, smiling up at him. Their lips met as they kiss softly, parting and looking him up and down.
"Going out this late?," she asked, wondering why he would be venturing out on the spur of the moment which was definitely unlike his planned life. She had never known him for his spontaneity, any of their outings had been thought of hours in advance. "Going to go see Dad. Know it's late but I doubt he'll mind." Excitement rippled across her face at the possibility of him opening up about such a touchy subject with him, the moments he would even mention their father had been few and far between, let alone actually to go see and talk to him.
"Hey, well hold up," she said nodding in the direction of her feet, "Just let me get some shoes on and I'll come with." "Sorry, Mel, but I don't think so," he said, the look of disappointment on her face sending his heart dropping, "I just want to go there alone this time. Besides, college looks to have you busy enough as is, need to get that paper finished remember?" "Already done," she shrugged, "Come up with another excuse." "Just trust me on this," he said, hoping she did not sense the agitation in his voice, "I just have to get something off my chest. It's not a big deal, really nothing for you to drag yourself out of the house for."
"I love you," he said as bent down and kissed her again. "Love you too," she said with a smile, "I'll wait up for you so don't be too late OK?" "You're nuts," he answered her, "I won't be too long." Xavier stood erect now, backing away from her on the couching and walking towards the door in the main hallway. He turned his head, giving her a sidelong glance to see she was looking on at him worried but breaking the look of despair for him with a smile before he opened the door and closed it locked behind him.
Chapter Two
The air dead and stale, fitting environment. Solid stone monuments, large and small, stood erect, protruding out through the grass and earth below. Nothing stirred but the tail of his coat flowing gently with the breeze. Not the resounding echo of a bat's screeching nor the flap of one's fleshy wing slicing through the air. No flashing of a vehicles' headlights, revving of an engine from a distant highway. It was as if all life itself had evacuated the area for fear of falling to the same fate as everything else here. The odor hanging over it all, hovering over the necropolis as a storm cloud, penetrating all with it's sickness. It was Death. Not the hooded figure raising a skeletal hand and pointing to its intended target before spiritually cutting them down with it's preferred weapon of choice. Soul torn from physical life and form, never to regain it again, would have no other choice but to obey it's command to leave being the shattered vessels buried within this land. Not, this was what the figure personified: coldness, isolation and distance from God.
However morbid it seemed, Xavier could understand why some people ventured to such a place for isolation. Here were scraps of the divine creation, life. Cast aside by that which had breathed life into them, buried in the earth or ceiled within vaults of stone, after being rendered useless, what was let here were of no concern to anyone or anything. The occasional visit by someone close to whom that had once inhabited the corpse which they were addressing and a dozen or so flowers lain atop the stones, it was no where near enough to bring warmth and life anew. The flowers eventually died and withered away to dust, blown aside with the whispering of the ghostly wind. The presences of the people faded away into powerless memories, barely leaving an imprint of themselves upon the grounds. Birds, squirrels and even the lowliest of rodents were not sentimental enough to pay it a visit.
Xavier, however, was not of the same mind as them as mostly anyone else. He felt distant from God wherever he was, the place and setting had nothing to do with it. And that was what exactly what he wanted. He would not hear nor accept any judgment from whatever anyone person casting a critical eye upon himself and his actions, let alone from that of some divine being. He needed not to defend his love and relationship with his sister to anyone nor anything. It was their lives, their decision, their choice. The opinions of any outside parties were not necessary nor would they be considered. This was a confession, not an apology, to someone he had loved, not something he had despised for years for doing nothing but take from him for years.
The lines engraved, chiseled into the stone as they had been for the past twelve years. Chasms etched into the granite. Some connecting into another, some not, to form shapes and members of the alphabet. Letters spaced close enough together to be considered words, "Terrance Nathaniel Michaels," read the morbid headline, "Husband. Father. Marine. February 20, 1962 - December 15, 1995." His father, Melissa's father. In any real sense, the only good and honest man he ever knew in his life. The dedication to the ideal to do what he was told without question to help others, to lead through the trials of was what had gotten him killed.
Melissa squealed a giggle of a laugh, flying through the air with ease, levitated by the muscled in his arms. Her arms outstretched ahead of her, brown hair flowing in shimmering waves with every dip and sharp incline. Spinning around, twirling in circles around him, the feeling of a bird flying through the air flowing through her as Xavier watched on in jealousy.
"Terry," called his mother from afar, "I swear if you two break anything. And shouldn't you be going soon?" A resigned sigh let out form him with a grunt, slowing down and easing Melissa down to her feet. She held up her arms as if she wanted to go p again only to have his hand ruffle through her hair. "Mommy's right, Pumpkin," he said, "I'll be back soon though, I promise." Her bottom lip stuck out largely pouting, his lips brought to the skin of her forehead, whispering into her ear, "Go see if your brother will play with you."
Melissa smile slightly in agreement and turned away to walk to Xavier sitting on the couch watching television. She climbed up onto the cushions, propping herself up and leaning against his arm. He looked at her suspiciously, suspecting she had some ulterior motive for this latest grab for attention. Her brown, doe-like eyes gazed into his before laying her head to rest against his chest. Their father watched on, standing where he was as if waiting for something, his gaze fixed intently upon Xavier for the most part.
Reluctantly, Xavier pulled his arm from underneath her and wrapped it around her body across her back. He nodded approvingly while Melissa pulling closer, her eyes blankly staring at the screen against the wall. Their father side stepped down the hall from their view, a few audible words heard flowing down from another room down the hall before he returned to enter the room with a large duffle bag suspended by straps gripped within is right hand. "Mom can handle herself," he said to Xavier, "but take care of your sister while I'm gone. You're the man of the house for now." "Thanks, Dad," said Xavier quietly.
"Bye, Daddy," chimed Melissa as he turned and walked to the door. It swung open, blinding light pouring in, silhouetting his from standing within the frame. He turned his head slightly, giving them a sideways glance before stepping through into the light outside.
Colored lights flickered and switched as they hung from the decorated, Evergreen tree in the corner, shining their slight brightness upon them. Melissa's tears wetting his chest as she cried hysterically against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, not knowing the full depth of what was happening but knew that their father would not be keeping his promise. Their mother speaking to a man in a uniform, his chest decorated with a speckling of multi-colored brass pieces.
He seemed to be at peace inside the stained coffin, showing no signs of the violence that had brought an end to his life. He looked up with closed eyes to the ceiling, looking but not seeing, his spark gone and vacated. Some man he had never met was saying something to him, something about his father saving his life but he was only half listening. A step stool had been brought next to their father for Melissa to step up by herself and look at him without having to be carried. She screamed, clutching at him and refusing to let go. Only after their mother was pulling on her was her grip broken and carried away, screaming for him between choked sobs. She was asking why he would not wake up, unable to understand, he was right there.
The coffin lid shut closed over him, flag draped over top of it before six men grabbed the handles ringed around the side, clean white gloves sliding along them. It seemed impossible that something like it would be carried, it must have weighed a ton to his eyes but they raised it in the air. Steps in time with the other, they silently carried the box past him heading towards the door to take it outside to the waiting hearse outside. The only sound he heard was Melissa's crying and screaming still ringing in his ears.
"I'm sorry," said Xavier, looking down at the simple stone before him, the only decoration a simple cross engraved into the granite, "Am I a disappointment to you like I feel I am? I'm not going to try to explain myself because that would be stupid, and pointless. I am who I am and don't do anything at a spur of a moment, on a whim without really thinking about it. I didn't know the feelings I always had for Mel would change into what they have, but it's going on anyway. In the end, it was both our choice. I know what you'd think, just like mom would which is why we're not going to tell her. We can't. I tried to have what you would call a normal life, but it just didn't work out that way. Seems to be a curse with us, our family, we can never be normal no matter how we try. I only ask and hope you understand our actions when we do eventually meet again."
Xavier looked away with a smile before continuing, "She still asks about you, you know. Twelve fucking years and she's still bugging me and mom about you, what you were like and all. I don't know what mom's said to her, but I don't know what to tell her myself. I was thirteen, shit just seems a lot more different then they really are. Everything's exaggerated and I really didn't understand. I can barely even remember what the man you were myself so I how am I going to explain it to her. But she insists on more then just pictures, she wants to know about thoughts and details and I just can't think about it like that. She gets to thinking we're hiding something from her, some deep dark secret of our family but we really can't think of how to explain it right."
A droplet plummeted onto his face from the heavens, dripping down his nose as he looked up for a moment, "I love her, you know that. Ignorant people want to talk down to us as if we're animals but it wasn't something we could help. Actually funny, being normal didn't work out, but we're happy being outcasts. But you're above thinking like that aren't you? Some people like to think that all the stupid shit we think about goes away and everything is clear. I hope so, then you understand why we are this way. Just because we're not a normal couple like you and mom could have been considered doesn't mean we're worth any less right?"
The droplet was followed by one of its kin, repeated by another and another. The rain pouring down in rapid succession now. "It's hard sometimes," he continued, "going on, living like this. I don't know what's worse, living in this personal Hell now or the one people are saying me and Mel are going to when we die. There are times I wish it will all just be over and I'll be free, but then I think about her being by herself now, not doing like you told me to and take care of her. I'm sure it'll happen eventually but I'm not going to rush it. If it happens, it happens. In the meantime, I'll make sure she'll be OK, love her and give her the life she deserves like I have since the day you left."
Xavier backed away slowly from the stone, souls of his feet scrapping across the grass and turning away into the full force of the wind gaining strength now. A bolt of lightening struck down from the heavens far away followed by a loud, booming echo of thunder, the finger of God touching the ground.
Chapter Three
The windshield blurred, sheets of rain splattering against it slipping down. Wipers pushed a layer aside only to have it replaced seconds later, giving a clear view to Xavier behind the wheel for a mere few seconds before the process again. The wheel wanted to slip in his hand, sending the vehicle hydroplaning out of control but he kept control of the control. Tires slicing through the blanket of water over the asphalt, rain pounding against the roof with small echoes around the interior as it cut through the drenching air.
Xavier's mood remained somber on the trip back into the city, his confession to the memory of his father lifting some of the weight from his shoulders, his guilt over his actions hanging over his head like a guillotine. Months after giving into his and Melissa's love, the sinking feeling that it was wrong irked him, tearing at the foundations of his mind. His will would not be eroded, broken down by feeling it was wrong when it was the only thing he had experience in over the last year that felt right. It filled the void within him and would not give it up for anything nor anyone.
The green frames of the toll booths loomed ahead, skeletons rising up from the road and holding hands. He slowed as he slipped between the pillars, the purple EZ-Pass sign hanging overhead. "Toll Paid," flashed from the small sign to his right as he pushed forward into the night. Headlights piercing the darkness, bringing an artificial day to the air caught in its beams, allowing him to see the arching entrance, the rounded walls at his sides.
He turned off the wipers for the minute or so he would be sheltered from the storm above, pushed along the condensed air buried surrounded by tons of water from the river. It was surprisingly empty dead ahead, behind and in the other lane to his right. Even in the early morning hours, there was still at least some traffic going in from the New Jersey side.
The earthbound water assaulted him upon his exit from the underwater passageway. He twisted the wheel, turning his direction to the left and weaving along with the flow of the dotted lines of the road, eventually turning on the the West Side Highway driving along the river he had just passed under. Lights from the other side of the water glistened sparingly on the other side on the shore of the neighboring state, an inky black abyss between the lands. It was unchanging to his eyes, even with the current and turmoil of the storm raining a weathered Hell down upon the earth, it was calm and surreal.
Minutes passed by as he stared off into the emptiness of the road ahead, a yellow cab behind him in the distance. At least the city was not entirely dead at this time of night. Fifty-seventh Street and he turned right onto it, delving into the chasm of glass and steel and stone around him. Left at Columbus Avenue, sending him northbound towards his and Melissa's home. Even the lights of Broadway at Lincoln Center seemed to be shut down. The city was fast asleep in the slumber of night, defying the typical stereotype of being one that never eases in excitement. He slowed his speed, pumping the brake and curving into the right turn onto Sixty-ninth Street. His usual parking spot lay empty and barren as expected, sitting directly in front of the door to where hey lived, and backed easily into the slot.
His chest soaked to the bone by the time he stepped from the door, slamming it shut and walking around the front bumper to step up onto the curb. He took a long look down towards the park, hair pulling down over the sides of his head and matted down under its own drenched weight. Keys dangling in his hand, looking at the red wooden door at the summit of the steps then back to the park a block down across the street. He thought on it for a moment, feeling as if he were drawn to it.
He walked towards it, the muscles in his legs and feet propelling him forward, passing home after home just like his. Stone steps, iron railings and a red, wooden door flanked by windows along the side and more in the stories above. Every couple minutes or so, an occasional car passed the street ahead, eventually reaching the corner. Crossing the empty Central Park West was easier then he had expected even at this time of the night, cursing as he stepped into a deep puddle rippling along the curb on the other side.
He passed the street wide entrance, entering the park now, but finding no reason as to why he had come here nor any refuge from the deluge. Breaking into a half run, he found shelter underneath the overreaching arms of a large oak. Sighing, wiping his hair straggling down to his eyes, he took a deep breath trying to figure why he was here.
The feeling of cold steel against his temple, something in a round shape and thin. He turned slightly, seeing the face of a Hispanic man smirking at him, right hand holding a black Beretta nine-millimeter, aiming it at his head. "Spare some paper for someone in need?," he said. Another man, a kid really, chimed in with a laugh, "Idiot. Cough it up."
Xavier only smirked, it seemed Fate had in fact had a reason for having him at this specific point in time. Fine, if this was the way it was going to happen, so be it. He stood away from leaning against the bark on the tree, smirking and laughed, "You really have no idea how much you to fucked up. If you're going to shoot, me I suggest you do it now and get it over with and haul ass, because I'm not giving you shit." He look shocked by Xavier's ballsy-ness, exasperated but such a willingness to stare Death in the face and laugh it off. "I should blast you right here," said he angrily. "You want to do it," Xavier responded, anger rising in his voice, "Then fucking do it! You fucking cockhead! I want it, so fucking do it!" Do it!"
"Yo man," said the kid from behind, "This fool is crazy." The man looked behind him to the kid, pistol twitching with his hand shaking, backing up now as Xavier advanced forward. "No, not crazy," said Xavier, "Just fed up with a lot of fucking bullshit. Don't go chickening out on me now. You just stepped up and offered to put me out of my fucking misery so why don't you go ahead and finish what you started?!"
The barrel of the gun pressed against his chest, the man's finger letting off from the trigger, trembling uncontrollably. In a blinding moment, Xavier gripped it by the barrel, turn to face the side and twisting the pistol around to face the man threatening/promising him a quick and easy death. Xavier pulled away, now the one holding the gun at the head of someone. "Can't you fucking idiots do anything right?." said Xavier not in a question but condemnation.
The gun aimed straight at his forehead between his eyes, looking terrified at Xavier. The kid stood shaking, looking behind him. "Don't," said Xavier simply as a command, knowing what he was thinking before he saw him turn and make a run for it. The gun moves inches from the man's head, trigger pulled, shell casing ejected to drop to the ground with a trail of smoke as a small comet. A spurt of blood spewed out at him pieces of the man's ear falling on to his shoulder while other's flew back behind him. He held the side of his head, yelling in pain as he dropped to his knees. A puff of smoke erupted from the kid's back, small but devastating hole ripping through his jacket before he fell to the ground. A splash of mud as he feel into a large puddle feet away.
The barrel of the gun in his right hand, Xavier swinging it from up high over his shoulder, coming down with the butt slamming into the man's skull. He fell back, a gaping mess of crimson. Xavier knelt down over him, bringing down the butt of the handle with swing after swing, cursing them for their failure, "Mother fuckers, you can't do a fucking thing right can you! One simple fucking thing and all you had to do was pull your fucking finger back!"
Calmed after his outburst of rage now, anger relieved through physical violence, Xavier looked down at what had been a human skull crushed in by multiple, blunt force impacts. There was nothing left that was recognizable, barely present was the basic shape of a human skull. Streams of rain poured into the caverns, filling already with lakes of water.
Xavier held the back of his hand to his nose, stifling back a cough, finally realizing that the shot in the back had only wounded the kid. His feet sloshed through the mud and drenched grass as he was beginning to crawl away on all fours. A kick from Xavier's foot to his chest sending him rolling to the side, landing flat on his back with a grunt, grimacing from the pain of laying on the searing wound in his back.
He looked up at Xavier, masked by the darkness of the night and rain coming down into his eyes. "Please...," he gasped with a choked breath surprised he was able to get out such an effort, one of his lungs flaming with a burning pain and feeling week, cold. "Save it," answered Xavier without a hint of compassion nor sympathy before pulling the trigger yet again. More smoke puffed up from his chest, pumping out as an old train would chugging along, followed by another steaming volcano and another. The sound of the explosions were deafening, but not sounding as loud as he had expected it in the empty park.
He was quiet now, calm, no more begging, no more pleading. The gun tossed away, landing with a plop and splash into a puddle of mud. Quiet now returned. Only Xavier and the raining storm, the heavens crying down upon him as he looked up at it only laughing.
Chapter Four
The door swung open with his push as he dripped in through the doorway. He closed the door as quietly as he possibly could, shutting the inside of the house off from the pre-dawn shower. With all the effort to mask his entrance, he was not at all surprised by hearing Melissa's voice coming from upstairs. "Xavier?," she called, her voice filled with worry, "Honey is that you?!"
Water dripped from his soaking wet clothes as he walked slowly towards the stairs, not needing to look up to know Melissa was pounding down the stairs, the sounds of her rapid and panicked footfalls was warning enough. He looked up just in time to see her running into him, her arms wrapped around him, ignoring the fact that he staining her white pajama top and bottom. "Oh my God," she said relieved, "I was so worried." "I know," said Xavier, red-stained hand stroking the back of her head, "Took longer then I expected."
She pulled away from him, taking a couple steps back, looking him in the eyes before slapping him across the face with a stinging tingling. "That's for making me worry about you all fucking night," she said angrily, "You have any idea how crazy I been thinking something happened? I even called mom thinking you decided to crash there for the night because of the rain." "Sorry, Mel," he said absently mindedly looking away, unable to look her in the eyes, "I just been kind of out of it all night."
"No shit," she said, taking a step towards him and reaching to take of his dripping wet jacket, "God, you're soaked. What were you doing all night, standing out in the rain?" "Not all night," said Xavier with a shrug as if it would be considered normal. Concern grew on her face, peeling back the layer of his jacket and seeing stains that were not rain but blood red. "Oh my God, you're bleeding," she said with a gasp, "Get these clothes off, have to see what kind of shit you went and got yourself into."
Xavier pushed her gently away, moving past her into the hall, peeling off his jacket and letting it plop with a muffled splash onto the hardwood floor. "Don't worry," he told her half out of his head, "It's not mine." Melissa shook her head, confused by his words and trying to wrap her mind around exactly what he was trying to say, "Not yours? The who the fuck is it? What did you do?!"
Xavier nodded his head to the left, in the direction of the park, "Someone tried to rob me, and I killed them. That's it. I would have been home sooner but I felt like I had to go there right then." "Oh my God," she said stunned by his words, "Are you OK? Fuck, that's a stupid question. Did the cops drop you off, no one called me to come get you." Xavier shook his head, the idea of bringing the police into it was out of the question given the circumstances of what had happened. "No cops," he said quickly, "I beat one to death and shot the other in the back. Cops get brought into this and I'm so fucked. No one saw me and the rain has pretty much fucked the forensics, washing it all away."
"Xavier," she said inching closer to him, "You're talking crazy. I mean you were defending yourself." "No cops," he said simply, "End of story, now help me get these clothes off, we have to get rid of them. The mud and water will take care of the gun, won't be any fingerprints on it when they get it."
Xavier started unbuttoning his shirt, and undoing his belt, Melissa watching on in shock. "Xavier," she said with a tremble in her voice, "Honey, I'm scared. You actually killed someone... again. And it had nothing to do with me this time." "Don't be," he said looking at her, pulling of his shirt, exposing his bare and scarred chest, "Nothing's going to happen just like last time, but I really need your help with this. Those pajamas are going to have to go too, has their blood on it. Sorry, Mel, I replace it."
Melissa started helping him with his pants, taking them away as he stepped from out of them, "I'll take care of the clothes, you go upstairs and shower and get some sleep. I had a couple hours at least when I wasn't crying over you thinking you something was wrong." "Fuck sleep," he said, stripping down completely naked now, "I have way to much to do right now and we have a flight to catch today. I'll sleep then."
Chapter Five
Xavier held the door open as Melissa stepped outside into the open air, following alongside her with a hand on her back as they went down the stairs together to their car waiting at the curb. Feet crunching against the sidewalk underfoot, parting as Melissa reached the passenger door, looking at Xavier with a smile as he rounded around the front. She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat as Xavier was opening his, catching a cheap glance at his ass as he turned to sit down.
Key turned, ignition kicking on and the car roared to life from underneath the hood. Melissa looked out the window, brushing her hair aside and behind her ears, then to the car radio and reached with a pointed finger to turn it on. Xavier turned the wheel, foot pressing down softly against the pedal as they eased from the slot between their neighbors' cars and into the street, the radio's speakers blabbing on with some commercial about male enhancement therapy. Melissa laughed slightly, looking at Xavier with a smirk who met her gaze shaking his head, "Cute, real cute."
A dramatic beat of a drum and symbols sounded, signaling a switch in the program and a recording of a man's voice played, "WCBS News Radio 880. You give us ten minutes, we'll give you the world." A beating of a Morse-code like sound repeating for a couple seconds before a woman's voice this time took up the live reporting, "WCBS News time now three o'clock, I'm Karen Rodriguez. Flashback twenty years and today NYPD detectives are investigating a gangland beating and shooting in Central Park early this morning. Two Hispanic males were found dead, one beaten to death, one shot repeatedly in the chest including one in the back in the gruesome discovery by a jogger this morning. Second Grade Lieutenant Mike Graves during a briefing." The radio broadcast switched over to a recording of a man's deep but young voice during a press conference hours ago, "A weapon was found that we believe to be the murder weapon in both murders, but the storm last night and this morning has washed away any evidence that could be collected. Due to the intense and personal way in which both men were killed, we believe that the assailant knew the victims and this was indeed personal, this was not random and most likely the person had some kind of dispute to settle with the victims, ending it with their murders. We have a list of possible suspects that have had prior disputes with them in the past and we are speaking with them at this point. However, we cannot release their names at this time as we have not been able to reach the families as of yet, only that one was a twenty-one year old Hispanic male, the other seventeen. Crimestoppers will be taking any tips that are received and investigating them fully, so please, we need the help of anyone that believes they know something. That is all for now, another press conference will be held this time tomorrow with any updates we have."
Melissa turned off the radio with a jab at her finger, leaning her forehead against her opened palm as she let out a sigh. Xavier looked over at her, taking her other hand with his and gripping it slightly. "It'll work out, Mel," he said, "You heard what that said, they got nothing and looking in the wrong direction. No connection to me." "That's not the point, Xavier," she answered, her voice rising in volume near the of yelling, "You killed someone, two people. You heard that? Seven-fucking-teen. He was younger then me for Christ sake." "Would you rather that I just let them shoot me?," he said, "Is that it? Take it up the ass and let my head get blown off? Thanks. You didn't have this holier than thou position when I took care of that fucking asshole did you? No, you were relieved he was dead. Tickled fucking pink. So don't come down on me when I defend myself."
"Fuck you, that was different," she said, looking away, not wanting him to see the tears that had been welling up in her eyes. "Really?," he asked continuing to push her, "How's it different? He raped you, they were going to kill me. Don't go acting like its different just because it didn't happen to you this time. Someone had a gun to your head, you wouldn't have had a problem with them being on the news would you?"
Her chest heaved, yanking her hand away and holding it to her chest, "Just drive already, I just want to be alone right now." The sidewalk on both sides of them filled with pedestrian traffic, shoppers going her and there, the occasional suit this late in the day was an oddity. It all seemed very trivial and unimportant right now heading through the midtown traffic ahead.
He looked at her briefly to remain focused on the road, trying to take her hand back only to have her pull away from him. "Mel, I'm sorry," he said, "Yeah I was kind of harsh on you and shouldn't of snapped like that, but if I hadn't of done what I did, I wouldn't be here. Then what would you do? I don't regret what I did, as long as it means you're not alone and have to deal with it all."
Her palm pulled away from her eyes, fingertips poking around her away, wiping away the glistening, "It's just too much to take in right now. Last time it was to protect me, to make me feel safe, this was something different entirely. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt me and didn't mean to sound like that, it just hit me like a ton of bricks. Worrying about you all night, seeing you come in at three in the morning like a drowned cat and then the blood. I was terrified it was yours, that you were hurt. I didn't know what the fuck was going on."
"I know," he said simply, "I know. It's a lot to worry about. I wasn't thinking about calling, I should've but I didn't. Guess we're going to have some kind of dinner with mom now since you called and got her going and worried now. God knows we'll never be able to shut her up now unless we try to make her happy for a night." Melissa laughed, still wiping at her eyes, "Better believe it, thought I was going to go crazy just talking to her last night. That woman's creepy in the middle of the night now. That empty nest stuff. Just one promise, no more OK? We got lucky with them not being able to find out it was you, but don't press your luck. An orange jumpsuit wouldn't be you."
"OK, OK, I promise," said Xavier, "No killing people, well maybe a few of those annoying people in ESW but that's it really. Let me get away with something against Red Cell and I won't stop you next time Emma pisses you off." Melissa laughed and smirked at him, being the one to reach over to take his hand this time, "Alright already, deal. Just whatever it is you have planned, I suggest you start it against X-ecutioner this week. Red Cell looks to be a bunch of wackos. I'm going to enjoy getting some payback against that Shane bitch. Just because you're a little weak when it comes to hitting a girl, I don't have any problem choking a bitch, especially her."
"Enjoy," laughed Xavier, "And don't worry about me and X-ecutioner, we kind of have a history and he never did beat me last time. He seems to have this irrational fear of dropkicks from me for some reason though. Wonder where that one's coming from. Hope the guy doesn't start twitching when he gets in the ring with me, cheapen my victory if the guy I'm beating turns out to be a mentally challenged cripple with Parkinson's. Come to think of it, he does kind of remind me of Janet Reno."
Melissa shudders next to him, a thought chilling her down the spine, "Like eww, just thought of something really fucked up. Alexa and Janet Reno. You trying to make me turn me off women completely just so you don't have to worry about any carpet munching competition?" "Was kind of the plan," he joked, "Did it work? But yeah, beating him means I'll pretty much have a given shot at the title. Taking back what I lost and shoving it up Victor's and Red Cell self righteous asses. Modern crusaders, someone call DC Comics and tell them someone's coming up with more retarded shit than them. Give them some capes and superpowers like 'Gaseous Bubble Man' and they'll be set. They belong at a nerd's comic book convention, bath towels for caps and fucking Tinkerbell tights, not a wrestling ring, every last one of them. You, you just have to worry about Wonder Dyke, I got the fucking Toxic Avengers to deal with."
"But at least you do it well," said Melissa, now pushing back the argument they just had to the back of her mind. Blurring and gelling with the rest of the memories of her life she would rather forget. True, her brother was capable of extreme acts of wonton violence, but he did have that gentle, loving side of him that drew her to him in the first place, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Xavier stopped his rattling on about Red Cell, they were unimportant as far as he was concerned, a phase, the latest fad to sweep into ESW. Many such waves had come and gone through ESW as a company through the past couple years. The Empire, Alcoholics Anonymous, Empire Anonymous that had been created in the light of his burning, The Solution, they had all come and gone the passage of time. The one thing that had always remained, the one constant that would never die and always haunt anyone seeing to be at the top was himself. Striking down many, surviving only if he let them, that was Xavier Michaels. It was not the latest trend or fashion craze, it was fear, the one thing normal people felt. Fear Xavier they would, for the side of him they had all cowered from when he was in Victor Von Doom's Empire had returned, and he was angry and wanting the blood of those who had wronged him and anyone that would get in his way.