Post by Press1269 on Sept 18, 2019 19:56:30 GMT
NEAR THE END OF AUGUST...
PURE AMUSEMENT ARENA
PURITY, LOUISIANA
PURE AMUSEMENT ARENA
PURITY, LOUISIANA
They had been at it for a couple hours now. Both men were in the ring and Munin was kneeling on one knee while looking up at them through stringy sweaty hair. Press had a noticeable black eye while Youth sported a bloody nose. Her own lip was split from one of their attacks, and all three of them looked exhausted. But Press was like a drill sergeant and wasn't giving any of them much time to rest or rehydrate. Even now he was wiping the muck from his own face with one hand while the other one twirled in Youth's direction to signal him to begin approaching her from the opposite side. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men as she slowly rose off the mat, her hands flexing and unflexing, ready to react.
Suddenly Press darted in and she lunged into a front flip barrel roll to pass just underneath his meaty grasp to end up back on her feet behind him. Before he could spin around on her she sent a stiff side kick into the back of his knee and he toppled down to it. Before she could follow up Youth was on her with a right hand that had her stumbling back, but when he brought his left to hook around her forearm was there to block it. She spun round so that her back was butted up against his front and in the same motion she hooked the block hand to flip him over her shoulder in a leverage throw. Youth slammed against the mat painfully and when he moved to look up she brought her knee up into that already injured nose.
He flailed backwards clutching at his face when she's surprised by a bear hug like grip from behind that pins both her arms to her sides. She's lifted into the air as her body is crushed by the powerful clutch of the big man, feeling the air being forced from her lungs and her bones being pushed in unnaturally under the pressure. She growls. She isn't even aware of it, but she growls. Her head lolls forwards and then snaps back striking something solid with enough force that the hold loosens but doesn't fully let go. She repeats the move until she's free and then darts towards the ropes for momentum.
Before she can even take two steps she's dropped face first to the canvas thanks to a reaching trip from Youth. Quickly rolling onto her back as the young man moves in to try and hold her down, she grabs one of his grasping arms and actually drags him closer to her. She applies a nerve grip between the trapezious and shoulder blade and he yelps. A shadow comes over both of them and she quickly untangles herself so that she can roll quickly to the side.
Press' elbow drops heavily down across his partner with Munin nowhere to be found, and he curses as he pushes back towards his feet. Before he's fully vertical Munin leaps up to the second turnbuckle of the nearby corner and springboards into a spin while her left leg flashes out to connect with the side of his head. Press falls away back down to the canvas and she leaps on top of him and starts hammering with rights and lefts.
All the while she can hear wind whistling in her ears as if she's falling. She feels like she's been falling forever. Ever since that moment in Hong Kong back in March...
Even the thought of that brought with it a flash of rage. It made her hit harder. Faster. More animal than woman, a spirit on the verge of breaking free to consume the world.
Munin...
Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it coming through her chest, and that was okay. She didn't need it for what she was about to do. No remorse. No mercy.
Munin...
But something was wrong. She could feel it deep down. Something just at the edge of her vision, calling out to her. Trying to reason with her. Why didn't they understand? She didn't want to be reasoned with. Not now. Not in this condition. A place that felt so much like home.
MUNIN...
And just like that she came out from under it and she was left staring blankly around her surroundings. She was back in the Pure Arena, inside the ring, but gods her heart was still beating so hard. She noticed that both her hands were hurting, and she looked over to find that they were encased in two meaty fists that were crushing them flat. She was confused, hesitant almost, as her eyes drifted to the face of whomever was confining her.
Press stood there staring down at her with concern, but there was still a firmness to him, and she suddenly felt guilty. Or was that afraid. He knew. He knew what was inside her and understood it and she didn't like it. Or did she?
Press, seeing that she had somewhat come back to her senses released his grip on her hands and took a step back. Munin for her part let out an anxious chuckle while rubbing the back of her neck, and gave a slight shrug. "Sorry..."
The big man stared at her for a few moments longer and then stepped over to where Youth lay bloody on the canvas. Her eyes went wide with shock and she started to ask if she had done that, but somewhere in the back of her mind she already knew the answer so she didn't. Instead she stepped over and dropped to her knee's to join them.
Youth looked up at the woman, his face a crimson mask, and despite that he still managed a weak smile. "Jeez, Nin. You don't do that to this kind of face. How am I supposed to earn a living?"
She blurted out with a laugh followed by a few tears as she took his hand in hers and squeezed. "He's right you know," Indicating with a nod toward Press, "You really are an idiot."
He chuckled at that but it soon turned to a grimace as Press took a wet rag and wiped it across a wide gash in his forehead. He had another cut just below his left eye and multiple bruises and contusions along his cheekbones. Munin shook her head in disappointment, but she felt her hand being squeezed this time and she met the young man's eyes.
"Don't..." He whispered, his eyes suddenly turned hard and his brow furrowing causing blood to pool in the crevices. "This is the whole point of you coming here. This is what we set out to achieve. You needed this, and I'm glad I could help. Now take it with you and do what you have to do."
Munin couldn't look at him any longer despite knowing what he said was true. All Press did was grunt in response to the statements and she guessed it was an agreement, because when she finally found the courage to look at him he gave her a wink. She sighed heavily as both she and Press helped Youth up to a sitting position while he still hold the mostly blood stained rag to his forehead.
"I guess I'm in your debt. Again..."
"You're never in our debt, Nin." Press responds quietly, and Youth gives his trademark low whistle while figuring this was a good time to get out of dodge.
The two watched him exit through the ropes and head towards the locker room so he could get a good shower and stitch himself up. Eventually enough awkward time passed between them, both still hunkered down in the same spot as before. Finally, Munin gets to her feet and steps over to the ropes to lean across the top.
"Well, what do you think?" She asks thoughtfully over her shoulder.
Press pushes up to join her on the ropes, and even while leaning towers over her. "I think you're ready. As ready as anyone ever is."
She nodded, staring ahead at nothing at all. "I'll be leaving soon."
"Yeah, I know." Press replied quietly, and after a pause, added a little more gruffly, "Actually, we will be too. We're going back to Las Vegas."
She turned to look at him now and he did the same, both resting on their elbows to accommodate the gesture. She searched his face and he seemed to be forlorn at the admission, and she reached out to touch his wrist delicately.
"Why? What's going on?"
He smirked and let out a 'huh' before placing his hand on top of hers. It swallowed hers and she couldn't help but notice that it radiated heat. His eyes turned soft as he stared into hers, and then pulled back a bit to shake his head.
"We've put it off for too long. It's been three years since PAW closed it's doors and we've been knocking around aimlessly helping Sam out here and there. It's time we get back home to Vegas."
"I thought New Orleans was home..."
"It was, but then the thing that made it home was hardly ever here."
She felt a lump form in her throat and tried to swallow it down like she had done so many times before, but this time she couldn't. Her eyes searched his face as he put on a fake smile and looked off towards the locker room where Youth had retreated. She saw pain there, and it broke her heart, cause she knew what he was saying without him having to actually say it. It had been admitted to her by his partner in what seemed like a lifetime ago, and despite being delivered under completely different circumstances, she knew even back then that things would never be the same. And they hadn't been. He was her champion. Her friend. Loyal to a fault, and always there when she needed him. He was one of the men in her life that she could be vulnerable around, really vulnerable, and wouldn't judge her or find her wanting. She had felt guilty back then and felt a little of that now, but for the most part, if this was it, she felt grateful.
"I'm Sorry..." she began, but his sausage sized finger made it's way to her lips. The finger slid around so that his huge pitchers mit like hand caressed her face, and she felt herself leaning into it despite the mixture of emotions it elicited.
"Don't be sorry," He said huskily. "Do what you've set out to do, and do it well. We'll be watching."
With that he brushed her hair back from her forehead and planted a wet juicy kiss upon it before giving her a more genuine smile and starting towards the locker room himself. She watched as he went and part of her wanted to call after him, to tell him that she wanted him to come on this journey with her, to stand by her side. But she knew that this was something she needed to do on her own, well...errr...at least not with them. How many times had she said their names three times to elicit their presence, to watch them destroy enemy and foe? And how many times had she paid to reinforce that god damn PAW Announce Table to try and keep them from putting someone through it? No, this was her journey, and they had theirs.
She smiled at that, and before he could get out of sight called out to him. "We're not done, BombTrack!"
Press paused and turned his head to send a rueful grin back at his Lady. "Not by a long shot..." And with that, he disappeared into the darkness leaving Munin to contemplate her future plans.
Suddenly Press darted in and she lunged into a front flip barrel roll to pass just underneath his meaty grasp to end up back on her feet behind him. Before he could spin around on her she sent a stiff side kick into the back of his knee and he toppled down to it. Before she could follow up Youth was on her with a right hand that had her stumbling back, but when he brought his left to hook around her forearm was there to block it. She spun round so that her back was butted up against his front and in the same motion she hooked the block hand to flip him over her shoulder in a leverage throw. Youth slammed against the mat painfully and when he moved to look up she brought her knee up into that already injured nose.
He flailed backwards clutching at his face when she's surprised by a bear hug like grip from behind that pins both her arms to her sides. She's lifted into the air as her body is crushed by the powerful clutch of the big man, feeling the air being forced from her lungs and her bones being pushed in unnaturally under the pressure. She growls. She isn't even aware of it, but she growls. Her head lolls forwards and then snaps back striking something solid with enough force that the hold loosens but doesn't fully let go. She repeats the move until she's free and then darts towards the ropes for momentum.
Before she can even take two steps she's dropped face first to the canvas thanks to a reaching trip from Youth. Quickly rolling onto her back as the young man moves in to try and hold her down, she grabs one of his grasping arms and actually drags him closer to her. She applies a nerve grip between the trapezious and shoulder blade and he yelps. A shadow comes over both of them and she quickly untangles herself so that she can roll quickly to the side.
Press' elbow drops heavily down across his partner with Munin nowhere to be found, and he curses as he pushes back towards his feet. Before he's fully vertical Munin leaps up to the second turnbuckle of the nearby corner and springboards into a spin while her left leg flashes out to connect with the side of his head. Press falls away back down to the canvas and she leaps on top of him and starts hammering with rights and lefts.
All the while she can hear wind whistling in her ears as if she's falling. She feels like she's been falling forever. Ever since that moment in Hong Kong back in March...
Even the thought of that brought with it a flash of rage. It made her hit harder. Faster. More animal than woman, a spirit on the verge of breaking free to consume the world.
Munin...
Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it coming through her chest, and that was okay. She didn't need it for what she was about to do. No remorse. No mercy.
Munin...
But something was wrong. She could feel it deep down. Something just at the edge of her vision, calling out to her. Trying to reason with her. Why didn't they understand? She didn't want to be reasoned with. Not now. Not in this condition. A place that felt so much like home.
MUNIN...
And just like that she came out from under it and she was left staring blankly around her surroundings. She was back in the Pure Arena, inside the ring, but gods her heart was still beating so hard. She noticed that both her hands were hurting, and she looked over to find that they were encased in two meaty fists that were crushing them flat. She was confused, hesitant almost, as her eyes drifted to the face of whomever was confining her.
Press stood there staring down at her with concern, but there was still a firmness to him, and she suddenly felt guilty. Or was that afraid. He knew. He knew what was inside her and understood it and she didn't like it. Or did she?
Press, seeing that she had somewhat come back to her senses released his grip on her hands and took a step back. Munin for her part let out an anxious chuckle while rubbing the back of her neck, and gave a slight shrug. "Sorry..."
The big man stared at her for a few moments longer and then stepped over to where Youth lay bloody on the canvas. Her eyes went wide with shock and she started to ask if she had done that, but somewhere in the back of her mind she already knew the answer so she didn't. Instead she stepped over and dropped to her knee's to join them.
Youth looked up at the woman, his face a crimson mask, and despite that he still managed a weak smile. "Jeez, Nin. You don't do that to this kind of face. How am I supposed to earn a living?"
She blurted out with a laugh followed by a few tears as she took his hand in hers and squeezed. "He's right you know," Indicating with a nod toward Press, "You really are an idiot."
He chuckled at that but it soon turned to a grimace as Press took a wet rag and wiped it across a wide gash in his forehead. He had another cut just below his left eye and multiple bruises and contusions along his cheekbones. Munin shook her head in disappointment, but she felt her hand being squeezed this time and she met the young man's eyes.
"Don't..." He whispered, his eyes suddenly turned hard and his brow furrowing causing blood to pool in the crevices. "This is the whole point of you coming here. This is what we set out to achieve. You needed this, and I'm glad I could help. Now take it with you and do what you have to do."
Munin couldn't look at him any longer despite knowing what he said was true. All Press did was grunt in response to the statements and she guessed it was an agreement, because when she finally found the courage to look at him he gave her a wink. She sighed heavily as both she and Press helped Youth up to a sitting position while he still hold the mostly blood stained rag to his forehead.
"I guess I'm in your debt. Again..."
"You're never in our debt, Nin." Press responds quietly, and Youth gives his trademark low whistle while figuring this was a good time to get out of dodge.
The two watched him exit through the ropes and head towards the locker room so he could get a good shower and stitch himself up. Eventually enough awkward time passed between them, both still hunkered down in the same spot as before. Finally, Munin gets to her feet and steps over to the ropes to lean across the top.
"Well, what do you think?" She asks thoughtfully over her shoulder.
Press pushes up to join her on the ropes, and even while leaning towers over her. "I think you're ready. As ready as anyone ever is."
She nodded, staring ahead at nothing at all. "I'll be leaving soon."
"Yeah, I know." Press replied quietly, and after a pause, added a little more gruffly, "Actually, we will be too. We're going back to Las Vegas."
She turned to look at him now and he did the same, both resting on their elbows to accommodate the gesture. She searched his face and he seemed to be forlorn at the admission, and she reached out to touch his wrist delicately.
"Why? What's going on?"
He smirked and let out a 'huh' before placing his hand on top of hers. It swallowed hers and she couldn't help but notice that it radiated heat. His eyes turned soft as he stared into hers, and then pulled back a bit to shake his head.
"We've put it off for too long. It's been three years since PAW closed it's doors and we've been knocking around aimlessly helping Sam out here and there. It's time we get back home to Vegas."
"I thought New Orleans was home..."
"It was, but then the thing that made it home was hardly ever here."
She felt a lump form in her throat and tried to swallow it down like she had done so many times before, but this time she couldn't. Her eyes searched his face as he put on a fake smile and looked off towards the locker room where Youth had retreated. She saw pain there, and it broke her heart, cause she knew what he was saying without him having to actually say it. It had been admitted to her by his partner in what seemed like a lifetime ago, and despite being delivered under completely different circumstances, she knew even back then that things would never be the same. And they hadn't been. He was her champion. Her friend. Loyal to a fault, and always there when she needed him. He was one of the men in her life that she could be vulnerable around, really vulnerable, and wouldn't judge her or find her wanting. She had felt guilty back then and felt a little of that now, but for the most part, if this was it, she felt grateful.
"I'm Sorry..." she began, but his sausage sized finger made it's way to her lips. The finger slid around so that his huge pitchers mit like hand caressed her face, and she felt herself leaning into it despite the mixture of emotions it elicited.
"Don't be sorry," He said huskily. "Do what you've set out to do, and do it well. We'll be watching."
With that he brushed her hair back from her forehead and planted a wet juicy kiss upon it before giving her a more genuine smile and starting towards the locker room himself. She watched as he went and part of her wanted to call after him, to tell him that she wanted him to come on this journey with her, to stand by her side. But she knew that this was something she needed to do on her own, well...errr...at least not with them. How many times had she said their names three times to elicit their presence, to watch them destroy enemy and foe? And how many times had she paid to reinforce that god damn PAW Announce Table to try and keep them from putting someone through it? No, this was her journey, and they had theirs.
She smiled at that, and before he could get out of sight called out to him. "We're not done, BombTrack!"
Press paused and turned his head to send a rueful grin back at his Lady. "Not by a long shot..." And with that, he disappeared into the darkness leaving Munin to contemplate her future plans.
THE EMPORIUM
NEW ORLEAN, LOUISIANA
SEPTEMBER 16TH, 2019
NEW ORLEAN, LOUISIANA
SEPTEMBER 16TH, 2019
Press and Youth walked into the Emporium for the last time, or at least for a long while anyways. Youth wore his usual skater baggy pants, vans, and wife-beater that went out of style in the 90's, and Press had on jeans and an old PAW T-Shirt as they sauntered in. Samedi was already at the edge of the bar so they didn't have to step far before planting themselves on a set of stools near the old Witch Doctor. The Priest eyed the two men with a touch of sadness on his expression before finally giving up on it and giving them a resigned grin.
"You Know...for two assholes, you sure do know how to grow on an old goat."
Youth beamed while Press chuckled and Samedi's skelletal grin continued to shine.
"So do you already have arrangements back in Vegas?" Sam asked with upturned eyebrows.
"Yeah, we called up Frank. He said the apartment over the garage just came available so it was perfect timing."
"Funny how that seems to follow you two around, eh?"
Press grunted, but Youth's expression turned cross as he pointed a warning finger at the priest. "God damn it, Sam! Don't put that hoodoo on us! We have enough to contend with without having to worry about Fate as well!"
All three men spit to the side at the mention of the divine as if they had a bad taste in their mouth, and Sam even let out a low 'and curse her name' before getting back to normal.
"No, no..I would nah' do that to ya, certainly! I'm just saying, the task ahead is a long one. Are you sure you'll have everything you need out der."
Press chuckled again and leaned in towards Samedi. "Thank God for FedEx, right?"
Samedi didn't seem to appreciate the jest, absentmindedly grabbing a towel and roughly wiping the bar in front of them. "Always costs me a fortune to ship anything fresh, you know dat."
The three men continued to converse the way friends do, chatting, jabbing, and laughing. The hour was already turning late, however, and eventually Press checked his pocket watch and slid it over to his companion to signal that it was time to go. Samedi came from around the bar and hugged each of them in their turn, and then forced them to lower their heads as he said a prayer over them in the language of the dead. He offered them one final shot from his private stock and once the sacrament was done, he bid the two 'deadbeats' to get out of his bar.
With heavy hearts they exited The Emporium and walked the short distance to their 1966 Pontiac Tempest. Youth slid into the passengers seat while Press plopped down behind the wheel and fire the 400 Big Block to life. The engine roared like a monster as he fed it some gas and then looked over his shoulder so he could back out into the road. Youth thumbed through their CD collection to find some good road music and by the time he looked up they were passing through the city of New Orleans for the past time heading towards Interstate 10 to connect to 49.
He looked over at Press whose long hair whipped around with the window down and sighed as he sat back into his seat.
"Do you think we'll actually find him? I mean...he is the father of lies."
Press shakes his head with a smirk. "That's Lucifer. Loki's just the God of Mischief."
"OH! Yeah! Like that's any better!"
"It is. One's got more clout than the other for one thing. Besides, once we put out the word to the underground in the city that we're back, I figure plenty of folks will be wanting to pay us a visit. One of them is bound to know something."
"Jesus. I love how going back to a contract on our lives seems to give you a chubby."
"LOOK!" Press responded testily as he shifted into fifth after finally clearing the inner traffic, "We should have taken care of that when it first happened, but instead we took off for Mexico to join EW and met, Nin. Then there was PAW, the strap, and Stevie...but that was all three years ago. We hung around because we got complacent. Even if Odin hadn't shown up to give us a kick in the pants we still would have needed to take care of this at some point."
Youth rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest like a kid being chastised, but he knew his partner was right. Still, they had been on the run when they left Las Vegas, and now it felt like they were rushing back despite knowing what was waiting for them there. Right didn't mean you had to like it. He looked down at his lap and found the perfect song for the occasion which caused him laugh out loud eliciting an annoyed glance by Press. He held one finger up while pulling the CD out of the compartment with the other hand and sliding it into the CD player. The opening piano to Bad Company began blaring through the speakers and, despite himself, Press let out a laugh of his own. The Pontiac thundered down I-10 with the sound of two of the damned laughing all the while.
"You Know...for two assholes, you sure do know how to grow on an old goat."
Youth beamed while Press chuckled and Samedi's skelletal grin continued to shine.
"So do you already have arrangements back in Vegas?" Sam asked with upturned eyebrows.
"Yeah, we called up Frank. He said the apartment over the garage just came available so it was perfect timing."
"Funny how that seems to follow you two around, eh?"
Press grunted, but Youth's expression turned cross as he pointed a warning finger at the priest. "God damn it, Sam! Don't put that hoodoo on us! We have enough to contend with without having to worry about Fate as well!"
All three men spit to the side at the mention of the divine as if they had a bad taste in their mouth, and Sam even let out a low 'and curse her name' before getting back to normal.
"No, no..I would nah' do that to ya, certainly! I'm just saying, the task ahead is a long one. Are you sure you'll have everything you need out der."
Press chuckled again and leaned in towards Samedi. "Thank God for FedEx, right?"
Samedi didn't seem to appreciate the jest, absentmindedly grabbing a towel and roughly wiping the bar in front of them. "Always costs me a fortune to ship anything fresh, you know dat."
The three men continued to converse the way friends do, chatting, jabbing, and laughing. The hour was already turning late, however, and eventually Press checked his pocket watch and slid it over to his companion to signal that it was time to go. Samedi came from around the bar and hugged each of them in their turn, and then forced them to lower their heads as he said a prayer over them in the language of the dead. He offered them one final shot from his private stock and once the sacrament was done, he bid the two 'deadbeats' to get out of his bar.
With heavy hearts they exited The Emporium and walked the short distance to their 1966 Pontiac Tempest. Youth slid into the passengers seat while Press plopped down behind the wheel and fire the 400 Big Block to life. The engine roared like a monster as he fed it some gas and then looked over his shoulder so he could back out into the road. Youth thumbed through their CD collection to find some good road music and by the time he looked up they were passing through the city of New Orleans for the past time heading towards Interstate 10 to connect to 49.
He looked over at Press whose long hair whipped around with the window down and sighed as he sat back into his seat.
"Do you think we'll actually find him? I mean...he is the father of lies."
Press shakes his head with a smirk. "That's Lucifer. Loki's just the God of Mischief."
"OH! Yeah! Like that's any better!"
"It is. One's got more clout than the other for one thing. Besides, once we put out the word to the underground in the city that we're back, I figure plenty of folks will be wanting to pay us a visit. One of them is bound to know something."
"Jesus. I love how going back to a contract on our lives seems to give you a chubby."
"LOOK!" Press responded testily as he shifted into fifth after finally clearing the inner traffic, "We should have taken care of that when it first happened, but instead we took off for Mexico to join EW and met, Nin. Then there was PAW, the strap, and Stevie...but that was all three years ago. We hung around because we got complacent. Even if Odin hadn't shown up to give us a kick in the pants we still would have needed to take care of this at some point."
Youth rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest like a kid being chastised, but he knew his partner was right. Still, they had been on the run when they left Las Vegas, and now it felt like they were rushing back despite knowing what was waiting for them there. Right didn't mean you had to like it. He looked down at his lap and found the perfect song for the occasion which caused him laugh out loud eliciting an annoyed glance by Press. He held one finger up while pulling the CD out of the compartment with the other hand and sliding it into the CD player. The opening piano to Bad Company began blaring through the speakers and, despite himself, Press let out a laugh of his own. The Pontiac thundered down I-10 with the sound of two of the damned laughing all the while.
THE END...OR IS IT?
