Post by THERE IS A GOD on Feb 4, 2008 15:31:08 GMT -4
“Everyone please return to your seats, and buckle your seatbelts. We are now beginning our final descent into Long Island MacArthur Airport.”
The flight attendants words over the radio rang within his head. “Long Island”, he thought to himself again, and again. “Long Island”. Home. It had been so long. Three years or so since he had disappeared.
Memories flooded his mind. Memories of a life that he had left behind. Memories that he had no time for where he had been. Memories of the hospital… Of them… And of her… The reason he left… He had always wanted her to follow in his footsteps, and she did. Gone from him forever. And that was only the beginning. Everything around him began to die. Everything that he touched… Everything that he loved… Gone! What a fucking surprise. But this time something got done about it.
The plane jerked as the wheels hit the runway. He had always hated that part. Landings… Statistically the most dangerous part of a flight. Fasten seatbelt signs around the cabin went off, and the collective of travelers, and visitors rose to their feet, scrambling about the plane, taking their carry-ons, and small children.
He waited patiently for the cabin to begin to empty before he rose. He opened the overhead compartment revealing the four letters that changed his life forever. “UPMC” (United States Marine Corps.) embroidered in black on an extra large, olive drab duffel bag. The man adjusted his digital camouflage out of trained instinct before grabbing the bag with one strong hand.
And that was exactly what was done about it. When one finds oneself with no purpose, one must find purpose again. Most would take that for granted. Most have never found themselves with absolutely nothing either. The Marines gave him a purpose again. Gave him a chance to have something that was truly a good thing in his life. Something that he could look back at and be proud of.
The marine left the gate, and to the front doors. Every move he made was near perfect. Every step in his walk was even, and quit. His turns quick, and fluid. His eyes constantly darting. Checking for ins, and outs of every area. His mind always gauging plausible threats, and how to best defend from those scenarios. A result of his training. A result of war.
He left the airport, the brisk winter air slapping him in the face. Much different than the sands of the middle east. The marine picked his cab, a fist still on his bag.
“Where we going boss?”, asked the cabbie.
“185 Hampton Drive, Hampton Bays.”, the marine replied.
Off the cab went. It was a quite ride to the Hampton Bay. Our homesick hero stared out the window. He was home. But he was still alone. Always alone. And that was the real problem. A problem not even the corps wasn’t a help with anymore.
The cab stopped in front of a three story white house overlooking the water. Monies were exchanged, and the marine stepped out of the car, and walked up to his house. He reached into his breast pocket with his free hand, and pulled a key that hadn’t opened that door in what had felt like an eternity.
He opened the door to what he expected to be the same empty home he left behind. Instead what stood before him was something that has put men twice his size into comas. But a marine is no mere man. And our hero was no mere man to begin with.
It stood tall before him, leaning on a Singapore Cane. Long dark mangy hair covered the monster’s grin, giving it an even more vile demeanor. Wearing leather jacket like the armor it was.
The door closed behind him, and a voice sounded from behind him. Soft… Sweet… Comforting… “Kenny Lambardo Jr.” Everything that the originator of that voice wasn’t.
Kenny touched the scar on his right cheek, and replied with a smile. “Actually that would be Kennith Lambardo Jr. esq. If you want to get technical Miss Blackwell”
“Sergeant Kennith Lambardo Jr. esq. apparently.” Trevor interjected, as Kristina came up from behind Kenny, sliding a black fishnet laced arm around the marine. Her purple claws scratching at his fatigues.
Kenny held a half-cocked grin as he looked over his shoulder to the littlest Blackwell that had latched herself onto him. One of the only men in the world brave enough to allow a Blackwell to lay a hand on them. And one of the only men brave enough to take his eyes off of Trevor, particularly with that Singapore cane in hand.
She gazed back with piercing fuck-me eyes that matched his own. Her dark hair… Her soft skin… Everything a Lambardo could want in a girl. A manipulative succubus using sex to steal men‘s souls. Usually she was quite good at this, but the Sergeant had been here before.
“Okay Trevor?” Lambardo’s eyes darted back to “The Career Killer”. “What the hell do you want from me? That ain’t no way that your going to stand there while your sister lays her hands all over me, without you needing me to do something for you.”
“Actually I don’t need you for anything.” Trevor replied.
“I need you.” The Hardcore Princess interjected.
She twisted to Kenny’s front. The marine following the fishnet with his eyes to where it tied off over the center of Kristina’s tank top. She adjusted her leather mini-skirt, drawing Lambardo’s attention to the legs of a true lucha libre. His eyes continued their journey down her legs to the high-heeled, knee-highs, and then up to her chest as she leaned.
Kristina gave a devilish smile as the two met eyes. She straitened back up, and pressed against Kenny, wrapping an arm around him as she spoke.
“You see. There’s a horny little boy in this new fed that we found. Thinks that he saw me in a porno. I personally think that he just wishes that he saw me in a porno.”
“Him and every other guy on the face of the planet.” Kenny interrupted. “I still don’t see where that puts me.”
Kristina blushed with a smile. “Still a charmer I see”
“Still a seductive bitch I see.” The words left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. “When the hell are you going to learn that there is more to life than sex, and gold.”
“Look whose talking!?” Trevor interrupted angrily.
Kristina shot her brother a look that snapped him back into place.
“And when in the hell did you become unable to handle your own shit?” Kenny continued.
The princess’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, her tone becoming more serious than before. “The truth of the matter is that I just don’t have the time to handle this right now. Trevor has a World Heavyweight Title to win, and you know that nothing gets done in this family without me having some kind of hand in it. Besides… This guy is tough. Tougher than we originally gave him credit for.”
“So Trevor, and you underestimated the guy, and got your asses handed to you on a silver platter.”
“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.” Trevor interrupted again.
“I would.” Kristina rebutted.
“And what about Tony?” Kenny continued. “Isn’t he the Blackwell’s enforcer?”
“Little brother’s been a little distant lately.” Trevor replied.
“C’mon Kenny.” “The Hardcore Princess” started up again. “Do it for a friend. For old times sake. Besides… Everyone needs a little Kaos in their life.”
“Do you remember what happened the last time that I stepped into a wrestling arena?” Kenny replied. “Are you new, or did you just land on your head one to many times in Mexico. I retired. I’ve held every kind of title that I could get my hands on. Been a World Heavyweight Champion. Dual Champion. And did it all in my first year. Younger than anyone that had come before me. Give me one good reason.”
“How’s this for ya?” Trevor smiled fiendishly. “Its run by Hurricane Jeff, whose find some of the sickest talent this side of Japan. So what do you have to say to that”
“The once KaotiK thought to himself, about the days in IWC… His old tag partner HJ… The fans chanting his name… The women screaming his name…
Kenny smiled.
“HOOAAH! And let the healing begin…”
The flight attendants words over the radio rang within his head. “Long Island”, he thought to himself again, and again. “Long Island”. Home. It had been so long. Three years or so since he had disappeared.
Memories flooded his mind. Memories of a life that he had left behind. Memories that he had no time for where he had been. Memories of the hospital… Of them… And of her… The reason he left… He had always wanted her to follow in his footsteps, and she did. Gone from him forever. And that was only the beginning. Everything around him began to die. Everything that he touched… Everything that he loved… Gone! What a fucking surprise. But this time something got done about it.
The plane jerked as the wheels hit the runway. He had always hated that part. Landings… Statistically the most dangerous part of a flight. Fasten seatbelt signs around the cabin went off, and the collective of travelers, and visitors rose to their feet, scrambling about the plane, taking their carry-ons, and small children.
He waited patiently for the cabin to begin to empty before he rose. He opened the overhead compartment revealing the four letters that changed his life forever. “UPMC” (United States Marine Corps.) embroidered in black on an extra large, olive drab duffel bag. The man adjusted his digital camouflage out of trained instinct before grabbing the bag with one strong hand.
And that was exactly what was done about it. When one finds oneself with no purpose, one must find purpose again. Most would take that for granted. Most have never found themselves with absolutely nothing either. The Marines gave him a purpose again. Gave him a chance to have something that was truly a good thing in his life. Something that he could look back at and be proud of.
The marine left the gate, and to the front doors. Every move he made was near perfect. Every step in his walk was even, and quit. His turns quick, and fluid. His eyes constantly darting. Checking for ins, and outs of every area. His mind always gauging plausible threats, and how to best defend from those scenarios. A result of his training. A result of war.
He left the airport, the brisk winter air slapping him in the face. Much different than the sands of the middle east. The marine picked his cab, a fist still on his bag.
“Where we going boss?”, asked the cabbie.
“185 Hampton Drive, Hampton Bays.”, the marine replied.
Off the cab went. It was a quite ride to the Hampton Bay. Our homesick hero stared out the window. He was home. But he was still alone. Always alone. And that was the real problem. A problem not even the corps wasn’t a help with anymore.
The cab stopped in front of a three story white house overlooking the water. Monies were exchanged, and the marine stepped out of the car, and walked up to his house. He reached into his breast pocket with his free hand, and pulled a key that hadn’t opened that door in what had felt like an eternity.
He opened the door to what he expected to be the same empty home he left behind. Instead what stood before him was something that has put men twice his size into comas. But a marine is no mere man. And our hero was no mere man to begin with.
It stood tall before him, leaning on a Singapore Cane. Long dark mangy hair covered the monster’s grin, giving it an even more vile demeanor. Wearing leather jacket like the armor it was.
The door closed behind him, and a voice sounded from behind him. Soft… Sweet… Comforting… “Kenny Lambardo Jr.” Everything that the originator of that voice wasn’t.
Kenny touched the scar on his right cheek, and replied with a smile. “Actually that would be Kennith Lambardo Jr. esq. If you want to get technical Miss Blackwell”
“Sergeant Kennith Lambardo Jr. esq. apparently.” Trevor interjected, as Kristina came up from behind Kenny, sliding a black fishnet laced arm around the marine. Her purple claws scratching at his fatigues.
Kenny held a half-cocked grin as he looked over his shoulder to the littlest Blackwell that had latched herself onto him. One of the only men in the world brave enough to allow a Blackwell to lay a hand on them. And one of the only men brave enough to take his eyes off of Trevor, particularly with that Singapore cane in hand.
She gazed back with piercing fuck-me eyes that matched his own. Her dark hair… Her soft skin… Everything a Lambardo could want in a girl. A manipulative succubus using sex to steal men‘s souls. Usually she was quite good at this, but the Sergeant had been here before.
“Okay Trevor?” Lambardo’s eyes darted back to “The Career Killer”. “What the hell do you want from me? That ain’t no way that your going to stand there while your sister lays her hands all over me, without you needing me to do something for you.”
“Actually I don’t need you for anything.” Trevor replied.
“I need you.” The Hardcore Princess interjected.
She twisted to Kenny’s front. The marine following the fishnet with his eyes to where it tied off over the center of Kristina’s tank top. She adjusted her leather mini-skirt, drawing Lambardo’s attention to the legs of a true lucha libre. His eyes continued their journey down her legs to the high-heeled, knee-highs, and then up to her chest as she leaned.
Kristina gave a devilish smile as the two met eyes. She straitened back up, and pressed against Kenny, wrapping an arm around him as she spoke.
“You see. There’s a horny little boy in this new fed that we found. Thinks that he saw me in a porno. I personally think that he just wishes that he saw me in a porno.”
“Him and every other guy on the face of the planet.” Kenny interrupted. “I still don’t see where that puts me.”
Kristina blushed with a smile. “Still a charmer I see”
“Still a seductive bitch I see.” The words left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. “When the hell are you going to learn that there is more to life than sex, and gold.”
“Look whose talking!?” Trevor interrupted angrily.
Kristina shot her brother a look that snapped him back into place.
“And when in the hell did you become unable to handle your own shit?” Kenny continued.
The princess’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, her tone becoming more serious than before. “The truth of the matter is that I just don’t have the time to handle this right now. Trevor has a World Heavyweight Title to win, and you know that nothing gets done in this family without me having some kind of hand in it. Besides… This guy is tough. Tougher than we originally gave him credit for.”
“So Trevor, and you underestimated the guy, and got your asses handed to you on a silver platter.”
“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.” Trevor interrupted again.
“I would.” Kristina rebutted.
“And what about Tony?” Kenny continued. “Isn’t he the Blackwell’s enforcer?”
“Little brother’s been a little distant lately.” Trevor replied.
“C’mon Kenny.” “The Hardcore Princess” started up again. “Do it for a friend. For old times sake. Besides… Everyone needs a little Kaos in their life.”
“Do you remember what happened the last time that I stepped into a wrestling arena?” Kenny replied. “Are you new, or did you just land on your head one to many times in Mexico. I retired. I’ve held every kind of title that I could get my hands on. Been a World Heavyweight Champion. Dual Champion. And did it all in my first year. Younger than anyone that had come before me. Give me one good reason.”
“How’s this for ya?” Trevor smiled fiendishly. “Its run by Hurricane Jeff, whose find some of the sickest talent this side of Japan. So what do you have to say to that”
“The once KaotiK thought to himself, about the days in IWC… His old tag partner HJ… The fans chanting his name… The women screaming his name…
Kenny smiled.
“HOOAAH! And let the healing begin…”
