The Road....Part 3 - Johnny Walker Black

[The Morning Star]

~{Hotel Room}~

The U.W.A. Channel was airing a video from the woman known simply as Artemis. It was just ending and the feed was being sent to that of a commercial for the most recent U.W.A. Event, Raising Hell to show case the matches that had been announced. The announcements however would have to wait as the screen faded to black.

Who this change of scene was for became quickly obvious as the feed of a hand held camera started. There was only one person in U.W.A. Who preferred the use of hand held camera's instead of the big U.W.A. Cameras, and that person came quickly into frame.

He was seated on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his palms down on his thighs. The man was shirtless showing off the many pieces of inked artwork that covered his body. His hair had a new design now. A black base with streaks of blue, neon green and platinum blond that hung down to just over his face.

Someone however was on the camera. It was being held by someone who walked around the bed to get a good look at The Morning Star. A empty bottle of Johnny Walker Blue sat on the night stand next to where he sat.

finally Michael stood from where he sat and stretched. The camera focusing on his back, and those beautifully designed black wings that arched and rippled as the muscles of his back shifted and then came around to show his chest and stomach before panning up as he ran a hand up his face to lift the wealth of hair from in front of it.

His eyes, the color of molten gold shifted until they came to focus, not on the camera but on the person holding it and he snorted and grabbed something from the table next to the bed, placed it between his lips and then lit it.

A cigerette?

A joint?

Time will only tell.

Michael: “What are you doing?”

When the voice answered it became clear it was a woman. Perhaps the same one he has spoken to before? The blond who had ended up with her head in his lap at the end of the last Video?

Woman: “You seem to be insistent at airing all of these......”

The woman who held the camera lifted what appeared to be a DVD in a clear case and tapped a black painted fingernail off the cover. Michael reached up and took the case from her and looked over at the television in the room.

Michael: “You know why it needs to be shown. I owe that much.”

Woman: “You don't owe a damn thing. All of the years you spent was enough. You don't owe the world a damn thing Michael. Do I need to remind you that it was the World that did it?”

Michael: “And if I was doing it for them, I would agree with you. Fuck them, and leave them to rot. I wouldn't lift a finger to help a single one of them.”

Woman: “Do you remember what she said?”

Michael looked out the window and he could hear it clear as day. Muffled through the plexiglass that separated them. The words echo'd in his mind, like a physical blow.

“I loved you!”

“You gave me hate, See!? It saved me!”

“I feel sad for what I did. I feel bad.....”

The image in his head as clear as day, standing in the jail visiting room he stood up so hard that chair he was sitting in threw backwards and slammed into the wall. The guards began to walk over but stopped. He could see his hand slam into the plexiglass.

“I’m sorry? HELL NO FUCK THAT!”

He could hear his own voice echoing in his head as he stared out the window. Each syllable that was spoken as clear as it was yesterday.

“YOU'RE SORRY?! It was MY heart! It was MY life! It was MY start! IT WAS YOUR KNIFE!”

Woman: “Michael?”

The Morning Star continued to stare at the events of those days echoed through his mind. The black painted nails came out and touched his jaw and he looked up and she regretted bringing it up. It's all still so fresh with what he was doing. Somewhere inside she understood.

She watched as Michael stood up from the bed once again and moved to the television. The hand held cam was set down as she retreated from the room. She had her own business. The camera watched as Michael placed the CD in it's player and the video began.

~{Video prepared by Michael Rivers}~

The opening chords of “ I'm not an Angel” begin to play as the video begins. The actors that were paid to play the parts of Michael rivers and Dahlia showed up on the screen. They were sitting huddled up to one another under a bridge alone. He wore a simple T-shirt and pair of jeans with his black boots.

She was wearing his clothes, but with a darker, more feminine twist to them. His Mega Death shirt was torn to expose mid drift and she wore a dog color with spikes. A pair of jeans held up tightly by a leather belt and she was bare footed, but another pair of boots, smaller and cheaper sat next to them.

Michael himself voiced the voice over which spoke over the intro of “I am not an Angel.”

Michael: “After my parents kicked us out we ran together for months. Alone. Stealing what we needed. Barely scrapping by, but at least she was free. She wasn't being hurt anymore. She never talked, or rarely did anyway. When she did it was in broken English. She spoke like a adult child. Referring to herself in the third person.

They called her their personal doll. To be arranged and used as they saw fit....so she called herself Dollie. It was something I couldn't break her of, so I changed what it meant. She wasn't their doll anymore.

She was a priceless Doll. One to be protected and cared for at all costs. She was finally safe....atleast I thought so.”

On the video Michael and those watching watched Michael reached up and lifted Dahlia's face and the two seemed to be talking and she seemed....afraid. Ashamed. Tears were streaming down her face as she clinched tightly to his shirt.

Michael: “She was still so easy to manipulated that people.....took advantage of it. We had been on the road a month when it happened the first time. I....left to find us some food and a man came by. He promised her food...all she had to do was sleep with him.

This was normal for her. She was used to this treatment. Her father and uncle made sure of it. I found them in his van.....he had no food for her. He just wanted to use her.

He regretted this quickly. She wouldn’t be the only one who couldn't eat after their encounter....but his was because of the broken jaw. She cried.....felt ashamed of herself....i forgave her. What else could I do?

She called me Pure. I was the only Pure thing in her life. The only thing that was beyond corruption. Her guardian angel.”

As the two sat beside one another and Michael just held the smaller black haired girl song finally started.

“You made a mistake. On the day that you met me.....and lost your way. You saw all the signs, but you let it go. You closed your eyes. I should have told you to leave, cuz I knew all the time you couldn't handle me.”

As the words played the two on the screen got up. Him fully and her to her knees where she clutched to his shirt, hysterical.

“But your hard to resist, when your on your knees.....begging me.”

On the screen Michael pryed her arms loose and knelt where they talked until Dahlia threw her arms around his neck. As she hugged him she cried and he stroked her hair. The image on the screen changed them to the two of them walking down the highway.

Michael walked behind her as she danced and frolicked like a little girl through the windflowers that grew on the side of the road. On the inside Michael cried as he watched her. This poor girl never knew this life. This freedom.

“I'll tear you down. I'll make you bleed eternally. Can't help myself, from hurting you when it's hurting me. I don't have wings, so flying with me won't be easy....cuz I’m not an angel.....I’m not an Angel.”

It may become clear to those watching that the music Michael had chosen for this piece, was from the girls perspective. Speaking in her own way about how she felt like she was ruining his life, and yet the thought of losing him was so frightening she would beg him to stay. To forgive her.

The images on the screen changed then from the two of them walking down the road to the two of them on a beach in Florida and Michael was spending the last of the money they had on something to eat as Dahlia played in the sand. Michael looked back at Dahlia, so carefree and sighed, not sure how they would survive now.

“I hate being that wall, that you hit when you feel like you gave it all. I keep talking the blame....when we both know i'll never change.”

As the music played the two ate briefly and it was clear that this innocent little girl tried so hard to take on the blame for this. To allow him to take his frustrations out on someone, but he never did. Not once. Then to another image of her and a older man, as Michael intervened between the two.

Dahlia crouched near the corner of the pier as Michael and this older man grappled.

“I'll tear you down. I'll make you bleed eternally. Can't help myself, from hurting you when it's hurting me. I don't have wings, so flying with me won't be easy....cuz I’m not an angel.....I’m not an Angel.”

The image changed from the peir to a run down hotel room. Perhaps they had rolled the man? Maybe they had panhandled, it wasn't clear how they had gotten here, but none the less they were here. Dahlia was clearly fresh from the shower wearing a long shirt. Her legs were slender and smooth. They each looked a little older, perhaps a year since they had left.

The two sat on the bed and talked as she did her best to explain what had happened to her. How her life had become what it had been in that basement. She talked and he listened and gently stroked her hair.

“I....wasn't always this way. I used to be the one with a halo, but that disappeared when I had my first taste....and fell from grace. It left me in that place. “

As the two talked Dahlia began to give Michael a strange look. Like she was looking at something curious she had never seen before. The way he looked at her, the way he stroked her hair. How gentle he was. As she looked up and searched his face the words that seemed to be pulled directly from her mind played.

“Now I’m starting to think.....maybe you like it.”

Dahlia leaned up and kissed Michael full on the mouth and he gently pushed her away, but the war inside him was clear. She saw it and pushed forward again and got pushed away a bit weaker this time. Each time she leaned up and kissed him he seemed to resist a little less and a little less until finally he returned the kiss.

The moment he crossed the line.

“I'll tear you down. I'll make you bleed eternally. Can't help myself, from hurting you when it's hurting me. I don't have wings, so flying with me won't be easy. I'm not an Angel.....I'M NOT AN ANGEL!”

The words “I’m not an Angel” repeated at the end of the song over and over again as the two began to roll around on the bed together. As the song began to play toward it's end another voice over from the real Michael began over the two of them kissing on the bed.

Michael: “This is where....it began to go wrong. It felt right at the time....and yet wrong. I can look back now and know this is where it started. This.....”

The word “This” was matched with a image of Dahlia in Micheal’s lap, her back arched and her eyes closed, became frozen on the screen. What was happening was clear. The first time Dahlia and Michael had sex.

Michael: “....is where the road to hell began.”

~{Hotel Room}~

Michael hit the stop button and nodded before tossing the remote to the counter with a loud clatter. He turns and walks back across the room in only the pair of black boxers. She had brought his supplies, so at least that was one less thing he had to do.

As he reached the bag sitting on the table he pulled the face paint, box's of hair dye and a new bottle of Johnny Walker, this time it was Black. The other items were left on the table as he crossed the room and poured a glassful from the bottle before draining it in a single drink.

A faint little cough, twelve year old scotch has a hell of a kick. Smooth, but none the less. A faint glance at the hand held still running as he pulled on a pair of black jeans, speaking as he looked down at the bottom and belt he was doing.

Michael: “Dorian. See.....”

Michael glances up from the belt he was fastening and flashed that sexy little smirk he had been known for once upon a time.

Michael: “I know things too.....more then most men would be comfortable knowing. Less then others.....but more then most. You started with one. One that....i intend to reveal in my own due time. It is.....the tragedy of my own Faustian tale.

You....call it missing.”

Micheal’s head shifts very slowly from one side to the other, emitting a low “pop” as his neck popped and he looked over at the television and then back to the hand held.

Michael: “Dahlia. Yes. She is missing. And missed. She would have fit in with the Daughters of Darkness nicely, but fate would not allow us that chance.....”

Michael now stood fully and pulled the hand held into his hand and pointed it at his face.

Michael: “You know the past. You know where this story leads Dorian. So raise a glass. Good or evil. Right or wrong. Salute those who soldiered one without fate thinking they would. Salute the one who didn't allow her history to decide her life.”

Michael refilled the glass sitting on the counter with his free hand and then set the bottle down and lifted the glass into the camera view.

Michael: “Dahlia.”

The drink was drained and the glass tossed hard to the side where it shattered against the wall.

Michael: “NOW! With that out of the way. You make claims about what I have said about good and evil.....and all it in my estimation. No. There isn't a estimation. There is simply evil. There isn't a person's perception on Sin. There is simply SIN.

Take you for example Sentinel. There is no perception here. You are a sinner. You.....think you are wrathful, but that is not your sin. You think you are the red head are hot.....but Lust isn't it either. No one is lusting after either of you.

Gluttony? No, not you. The fat man who once ran the Children maybe.....but not you.

Envy? No....you don't Envy anyone. Why would you? You are the unbeatable Sentinel. The unstoppable force.....”

Michael actually snaps his fingers then and nods.

Michael: “PRIDE! That is your Sin....and boy Sentinel do you have it in spades! You wear it from the tips of your boots to the tips of your soaking wet hair. You.....”

Michael stopped then and offered a chuckle.

Michael: “But then again, who is without sin. I have committed just about every sin in the book. Pride is not alien to me, nor the concept behind it. You however wear it so heavily it makes me wonder. Are you truly that in love with your own hype? Maybe you get off on being Talon's Superman? Unstoppable, able to leap tall, bald black dudes in a single bound.....

Or is it something more then that? Something subtler? Do you wear your pride like a badge of honor because....you doubt yourself? You have to.....or else maybe you will fail? Like Napoleon syndrome only in reverse perhaps?

Now do not think for a moment that it means I am taking you lightly. You are the World Champion and anyone who looks at the World Champion and thinks they are no challenge....in a fucking moron. It's like fishing without bait.....sure you can do it....but it aint smart.”

Now whether that little comment was funny or not remains to be seen, however it made Michael chuckle and snort at himself. Once that mini wave of amusement had passed he continued.

Michael: “You did surprise me. Admitting you are on a losing streak. Risky.....but smart. It shows humility....A humility I am surprised you are capable of....”

Michael then lifted a hand to pause any blow back from that statement.

Michael: “Everyone who crossed path's with the Children last year had their deepest darkest faults used against them. You came back a ball of fire. Consumed with rage by the various things that had happened.....but you were able to claw your way out of the hole you had been dropped into.

You didn't take the shovel and dig yourself deeper the way Aerynn Donnelly, Ashley Kenyon and Jeszika Gautier have. You began to dig.....but had that crystallization moment. That realization that you are betraying everything you are....and you righted ship.”

Michael offered the big man then a hand. A genuine clap then turned slowly, as it ended into a slow clap and Micheal’s eyes narrowed a bit.

Michael: “I suppose it's time I brought my own A Game.....and then we shall we who is standing when the dust has settled and all the cards have been played.”

Michael held out a hand to the camera.

Michael: “The Destroying Champion who is on a journey of redemption, while surrounded by a pack of hyena's aiming to rip out his hamstrings when he turns.....”

Michael then brought that hand back to him and touched his chest.

Michael: “Or the daredevil Challenger, whose on his own journey to reap the souls of U.W.A. And write his word in the very blood of those who are deemed worthy.

MIGHT! Vs AGILITY!

POWER! Vs UNPREDICTABILITY!

GOOD!......Vs......”

Michael then leans in real close to the camera and whispers.

Michael: “It's destroyer.....”

Michael pulls the cords from the back of the hand held until the video goes out leaving only a dark screen and Micheal’s breathing. After a few moments Michael says softly.

Michael: “Come on Sentinel.....i await you.”

The audio then became static as he pulls the last plugs and the image goes back to Artemis's video.