Post by Craven on Nov 3, 2015 23:57:39 GMT -6
Sitting in his car outside of the Pleasure Dome, Warrick Craven watches the numerous people coming into and out of the building. For once, none of them were catching his eye as being overly scummy-looking. It had been a remarkably quiet night and this had him on edge. As he watches a pair of couples walking to the doors as if they’re on their way to a night at the opera or something equally upscale, Craven can’t help but smile. He reaches over for his radio and clicks the button.
C: Rocket, you got your ears on, come back.
Within seconds, the voice of his younger “brother,” Merlyn “Rocket” Harper comes roaring out of the
R: Yeah, Dub, what’s up?
Craven smiles at his brother’s attention. Rocket was always the most reliable and dependable guy in the entire place, something a lot of people inside the Pleasure Dome had both noticed and commented on in private.
C: Anything going on inside there worth noting?
Asa before, Rocket’s voice comes back almost immediately.
R: Naw, Dub, it’s been almost too quiet. I been worried I was gonna have to make somebody go outside, turn around three times and spit.
Craven nods his agreement at this thought.
C: Anybody been dumb enough to comment?
Rocket laughs.
R: No, I think you taught them all well, or, at least somebody did once upon a time.
Craven shrugs.
C: Fraser might have mentioned something, guys in his position usually have a little superstition like that. Security, bouncers, cops, military…
He trails off, knowing he really doesn’t need to list everybody that thinks that way.
C: At least nobody’s been stupid enough to need being told.
Rocket’s voice comes back, a little more somber than before.
R: Any word?
Craven closes his eyes. He knew the question was coming and was almost grateful that Rocket had added the name to the end of it.
C: None.
An audible sigh comes over the radio.
R: You’ll find her, Dub. You always do.
Craven nods, even knowing that Rocket can’t see him do it.
C: Did any of the leads pan out on your end?
Rocket’s voice comes back, now seemingly overflowing with guilt and shame.
R: I’m sorry, Dub. Baz and Cash haven’t heard anything, neither has Cali Clint. Baz said he’d call around his old cop buddies and see if he could dig anything up and Cash started calling his more anarchistic type sources but neither sounded real hopeful.
Craven almost laughs.
C: Baz always sounds like that. He’s the single most gloomy sonofabitch I’ve ever met in my life and that includes Fraser right now. Always see the bad side of everything…
Rocket goes quiet for a second.
R: He does seem quite pessimistic at that. Cali Clint said he thought we should call that Cornbread cousin in Nola, Chris Law.
Craven snickers.
C: Not surprised, Clint’s not exactly one to usually do any real work, he just sometimes stumbles onto shit when he’s on a mule run.
Rocket’s voice adds a tone of disdain.
R: He seemed a bit…
Craven nods, smirking.
C: Blown off his ass?
Rocket snickers in return.
R: Yeah, a touch. He seemed to be more loaded than anybody here even.
Craven shrugs.
C: That’s his usual state unless he’s on a run to Mexico. Somehow, he manages to be stone cold sober when he does those and then he rewards himself after.
Knowing Rocket, Craven can almost see the youngster shaking his head in disbelief.
R: How is he not dead?
Craven shrugs.
C: I have no idea, but thanks for trying.
Taking his cue, Rocket answers quickly.
R: No problem, Dub. Out.
Craven nods and sets the radio down. He reaches down between the seats and grabs a pill out of his box of goodies and pops it into his mouth, swallowing as he reaches up to turn on the voice recorder.
C: I just have to ask after the last show.
pausing, he reaches for another pill.
C: What was that?
Shaking his head, he shrugs as his fingers search for just the right poison.
C: I know I don’t know… does anyone else?
Finding his target, he raises it up and quickly swallows it.
C: Michael Rivers lost his mind at me and i have no idea why. From the looks of it, neither did anyone else and I can't help but wonder if something else is coming for me now, especially with this Cain guy who, honestly, looks like a low-rent rip-off of Michael Rivers or Lacey’s brother.
He shakes his head again.
C: Dude, why aren’t you in jail right now? You just killed a guy on camera! The cops should be throwing your ass away with no bail, not letting you walk into an arena to fight someone else for money. What, did you watch Supernatural and the Flash last year in the rubber room and decide that was a good bullshit story to tell the world?
Pausing again, Craven just closes his eyes.
C: Skadi… I promise… I’ll find you, wherever you are! And whoever took her…
He opens his eyes and glares out the windshield.
C: I’m gonna fuck you up!
C: Rocket, you got your ears on, come back.
Within seconds, the voice of his younger “brother,” Merlyn “Rocket” Harper comes roaring out of the
R: Yeah, Dub, what’s up?
Craven smiles at his brother’s attention. Rocket was always the most reliable and dependable guy in the entire place, something a lot of people inside the Pleasure Dome had both noticed and commented on in private.
C: Anything going on inside there worth noting?
Asa before, Rocket’s voice comes back almost immediately.
R: Naw, Dub, it’s been almost too quiet. I been worried I was gonna have to make somebody go outside, turn around three times and spit.
Craven nods his agreement at this thought.
C: Anybody been dumb enough to comment?
Rocket laughs.
R: No, I think you taught them all well, or, at least somebody did once upon a time.
Craven shrugs.
C: Fraser might have mentioned something, guys in his position usually have a little superstition like that. Security, bouncers, cops, military…
He trails off, knowing he really doesn’t need to list everybody that thinks that way.
C: At least nobody’s been stupid enough to need being told.
Rocket’s voice comes back, a little more somber than before.
R: Any word?
Craven closes his eyes. He knew the question was coming and was almost grateful that Rocket had added the name to the end of it.
C: None.
An audible sigh comes over the radio.
R: You’ll find her, Dub. You always do.
Craven nods, even knowing that Rocket can’t see him do it.
C: Did any of the leads pan out on your end?
Rocket’s voice comes back, now seemingly overflowing with guilt and shame.
R: I’m sorry, Dub. Baz and Cash haven’t heard anything, neither has Cali Clint. Baz said he’d call around his old cop buddies and see if he could dig anything up and Cash started calling his more anarchistic type sources but neither sounded real hopeful.
Craven almost laughs.
C: Baz always sounds like that. He’s the single most gloomy sonofabitch I’ve ever met in my life and that includes Fraser right now. Always see the bad side of everything…
Rocket goes quiet for a second.
R: He does seem quite pessimistic at that. Cali Clint said he thought we should call that Cornbread cousin in Nola, Chris Law.
Craven snickers.
C: Not surprised, Clint’s not exactly one to usually do any real work, he just sometimes stumbles onto shit when he’s on a mule run.
Rocket’s voice adds a tone of disdain.
R: He seemed a bit…
Craven nods, smirking.
C: Blown off his ass?
Rocket snickers in return.
R: Yeah, a touch. He seemed to be more loaded than anybody here even.
Craven shrugs.
C: That’s his usual state unless he’s on a run to Mexico. Somehow, he manages to be stone cold sober when he does those and then he rewards himself after.
Knowing Rocket, Craven can almost see the youngster shaking his head in disbelief.
R: How is he not dead?
Craven shrugs.
C: I have no idea, but thanks for trying.
Taking his cue, Rocket answers quickly.
R: No problem, Dub. Out.
Craven nods and sets the radio down. He reaches down between the seats and grabs a pill out of his box of goodies and pops it into his mouth, swallowing as he reaches up to turn on the voice recorder.
C: I just have to ask after the last show.
pausing, he reaches for another pill.
C: What was that?
Shaking his head, he shrugs as his fingers search for just the right poison.
C: I know I don’t know… does anyone else?
Finding his target, he raises it up and quickly swallows it.
C: Michael Rivers lost his mind at me and i have no idea why. From the looks of it, neither did anyone else and I can't help but wonder if something else is coming for me now, especially with this Cain guy who, honestly, looks like a low-rent rip-off of Michael Rivers or Lacey’s brother.
He shakes his head again.
C: Dude, why aren’t you in jail right now? You just killed a guy on camera! The cops should be throwing your ass away with no bail, not letting you walk into an arena to fight someone else for money. What, did you watch Supernatural and the Flash last year in the rubber room and decide that was a good bullshit story to tell the world?
Pausing again, Craven just closes his eyes.
C: Skadi… I promise… I’ll find you, wherever you are! And whoever took her…
He opens his eyes and glares out the windshield.
C: I’m gonna fuck you up!
