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The Ballad of Billy Mitchell; Ep. 002
Topic Started: Mar 13 2010, 02:55 AM (53 Views)
"Bad" Billy Mitchell
The Outlaw
[ *  *  * ]
OOC: Next edition, taken from the IWC RP against Pat Evans.

'Unnamed Woman' = Amy Adams.
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“I can’t keep doing this, Billy!” She gripped the wheel hard enough to leave her knuckles white. Staring through the windshield, she refused to even look at him. “Why do I have to be the only one with any God-damned sense?!”

There were no other cars that night. It wasn’t raining, snowing. The wind wasn’t kicking up, and the stars couldn’t have been brighter. Every last inch of that black silken sky was littered with dazzling diamonds that lit up the road, the countryside, everything. They could have turned off the headlights and still been able to see everything in front of them. It should have been the same as any drive home. But, it wasn’t…

Something went wrong… very wrong.

“Are you even listening to me? …why am I asking? …I bet you can’t even hear me, can you?! …can you?!” Turning to stare at him, she let go with one hand and used it to slap the side of his head, causing it to bounce off the window. “Damn it, wake up! …I’m talking to you!”

Reaching across to slap him again, she reached too far, causing the wheel to jerk. Letting out a startled scream, she clasped it with both hands, but the car was already swerving left, into the oncoming traffic lane. There. Right there, he could have reached out to steal control. All he needed to do was grab the edge of the wheel and pull them back into the right lane… instead; he just slumped against the side of the door, struggling to pull himself out the stupor he was in as headlights appeared beyond the windshield…

Turn! …why wasn’t she turning?! …the lights raced towards them, and for a split-second, the outline of a Diesel cab emerged from the shadows, seconds before everything seemed to stop. Impact. Squealing tires and shattered glass, the last desperate blare of the semi’s horn as the car slide side-long into the front grill, knocking it up on two tires as the massive rig pushed it across the asphalt, sending a shower of sparks up across the now spider-webbed windshield. And then from the backseat he heard Casey start screaming.

DADDY! …MOMMY! …HELP!”

Straining to reach back, he tried to grab hold of her hand, her shirt, her seatbelt, anything… but he couldn’t reach. Grabbing for the buckle of his own seatbelt, he struggled to release the latch, but it wouldn’t give. A rushing hiss of air from the semi’s brakes cut through the piercing squeal of grinding metal, before the truck finally came to a stop. Wrenching loose, the car rolled down onto its roof, then bucked up onto the opposite side, leaving them all feeling weightless for a minute. In those short seconds, he caught Casey’s eyes in the rearview mirror… and all he could see was pure, absolute terror. The car shuddered for a minute, before it collapsed back down onto its roof again, caving it in. A sharp pain exploded through the back of his skull as it smashed off the bent frame, causing his world to go black
.


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A soft, repetitive beep broke through the silent darkness, slowly leading him up from the depths of sleep until his eyes opened to the shaded surroundings of the hospital room. Reaching up to rub at his eyes, he pushed himself up a little higher and stole a glance towards the bed. Casey lay in the same position she’d been in since the crash. Flat on her back, head tilted upwards like she was trying to see something on the ceiling, only her eyes were closed. They were always closed. So many nights he’d stood breathless, waiting, hoping… hell, praying they might flutter, or just twitch. Nothing. They never moved. Every other second, the respirator would give a light hiss as it pumped a fresh breath into her lungs. The doctors said she could breathe on her own… but there were times where her brain simply forgot to take a new breath.

She ‘forgot’. That’s how they put it. That damned simple. She simply ‘forgot’ to breathe.

You ‘forget’ your car keys. You ‘forget’ to turn off the damn coffee machine.

You weren’t supposed to ‘forget’ how to fucking breathe!

Bringing both hands up to his face, he scrubbed his palms against the thickening stubble forming along his lower jaw, before forcing himself to his feet. Pain blossomed in the back of his head, traveling down the length of his spine as he rolled his shoulders and tried to work out the kinks. The past couple of weeks had left him feeling like a side of beef from a ‘Rocky’ movie. Between the chair shot back in New York, and the beating Roboto and his boys dished out the week after, he was ready to crawl into the bed next to Casey.

Sweeping his fingers through the haphazard mop on his head, he noticed the open folder sitting on the small table next to his chair. Inside it was Pat Evans’ dossier. Apparently, Dan Douglas had been impressed with the little ‘stun-fest’ he’d put on back at the “Special” …’cause they were sending him up against one of the Cartel’s heaviest hitters now. “The Outsider” was living up to his name. Trying to dig up information on the guy was next to impossible. He’d managed to download a few matches, like his tag match against the ‘Brat Pack’ back at the “2-for-1”, and some freelance work he did for Drachewych in the SCW. Evans had even been part of the original “Infection”. Things must not have gone according to plan then, either…

Leafing through the bare-bones notes he’d been able to make, he found the transcripts from some of Evans’ past monologues, along with his basic statistics and plucked them out, forming up a short stack before closing the folder. Raines had been a rookie. Someone who planned on letting her looks win her matches for her. Evans’ was the exact opposite. He was experienced, educated in the ring, and intelligent enough to know how to use both to his advantage. His bio-sheet gave the impression of a brainless brawler, looking to break whatever bones he could get hold of… but the tapes told a different story. Evans was a tactical master. He opened a wound and picked it clean like a starving vulture. Didn’t matter if it was an arm, a leg, the back, the neck… he had a way to crank it, wrench it and twist it any way he wanted.

Outwrestling the man was out of the question. He didn’t have a chance in hell of going hold for hold with Evans… he’d have to do things the old-fashioned way and knock his ass cold in the center of the ring. That, or hope to God the man made a mistake, but something told him that didn’t happen too often. The only real option he had was to step up and land the first blow. If he could steal the momentum from the start, maybe he could knock Evans off his game. The guy was a thinker, a strategist… hopefully, that meant he came in with a set plan, and didn’t have too many backups in case something went wrong… hopefully …

Turning his attention back to Casey, he winced as the metallic screech echoed in the back of his mind again. Why hadn’t he grabbed the damn wheel?! …it was right there! …two feet in front of him, and all he’d done was just sit there like an idiot! …and now she was the one paying the price for it. She was the one who’d spent the last two years in a hell he couldn’t even imagine. It HAD to be hell, ‘cause he knew, something, SOMETHING in him told him she was there. Just behind those closed eyes, just beneath that fucking respirator… his little girl was there, fighting, clawing her way back to the surface, back to the point where she could finally open her eyes and look up at him the way she used to do when he held her close.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, he brushed some of the curls away from her face, tucking them back behind her ear. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips. Much as he hated to admit it, she had her mother’s face. Petite, but strong, with full-lips that never stopped smiling, and eyes as rich a blue as the Heavens themselves… a born ‘heart-breaker’ if there ever was one. Hell, she’d already claimed her first victim: Him. From the first time he held her, he’d sworn to never let her go. Not for anything in the world.

And that was a vow he planned on keeping if it fucking killed him!

A quiet knock pulled his attention up to the door. Stepping in from the hallway, Gloria offered him the usual smile as she circled around the foot of the bed, and gazed down at Casey. From where he stood, Mitchell could see the mixture of pain, sorrow, love, adoration, and most importantly, hope. Gloria was the kind of woman who refused to give up hope. Not just on Casey, but on anyone. Of all the nurses he’d met since they’d brought his daughter here, Gloria was the only one he looked forward to seeing. She made it easier, just by being the kind soul she was. She must have been a little psychic, too, because she turned to watch him watching her and that smile just deepened, bringing out the dimples in her cheeks.

Sorry, Hon. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Stepping around to his side of the bed, she reached out to slide a soft hand along his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “You been here long? …don’t think I saw you the last time I made rounds.” Canting her head, she studied the swollen bags under his eyes a little.

Few hours. Flight landed back around nine, I think.” Leaning into her arm, he wrapped one of his own around her waist with a warm hug before pulling back and glancing up to the clock. It was already seven-thirty in the morning. He must have slept all night. “Doug was working the desk downstairs, so I just popped in the elevator and came up to see how she was. My dad finds out I’m back in here again, he’ll probably kill me, but… it’s not like I can come home and not be here, you know?”

Besides, the deal was he’d start wrestling again and get out on the road. It got him out of the room at least twice a week, between SCW and the Cartel, and for three to four days at a time. That should have been more than enough for Cody. He’d find out tomorrow either way, once word got out he was home…

Sliding her hand down to the middle of his back, Gloria tickled him with her nails before pulling away and moving up to Casey’s bedside. “He just worries about you, Billy, you know that. We all do. A lot more than this young lady here.” Turning to look back at him, she put on her best ‘Matron’ face, while drawing the sheets down to check the catheter tubing. “No use wastin' worries on her. She’s holding out better than those guys want to tell you. Half of ‘em figured she’d be dead by now. But nope… she just keeps right on doing exactly what they don’t want her to do. She’s fighting. Fighting and winning.” Leaving the covers low, she turned back to face him again, unable to help the small blush creeping into her cheeks. “You mind steppin’ out for about an hour, sweetie? …I know you’re Daddy, but she needs a quick bath, and being a grown girl now…”

Hey, believe me; I was already getting that speech.” Raising his hands, he backed up a couple steps and turned to collect the stack of papers he’d pulled from the folder. Brandishing the best smile he could fake, he stole a look back at Casey’s face, remembering the stern looks and scrunched noses whenever she had to ‘remind’ him that she wasn’t a baby anymore. Personally, he was willing to argue that point as soon as she woke up, but for now, he’d go ahead and let her win the way he always did. “Is the cafeteria locked up? …I’m not really hungry, but I could use a place to sit down and go through these.”

Straightening up a little, she dug a small key-ring out of her pocket and passed it over. “Pretty sure they locked it up, sweetie, but one of those ‘ought to open it. You got homework or somethin’?” She lifted her head a little, trying to peek over his arm to catch the writing on the papers. Her eyes zeroed in on the monochrome photo of Evans. “Wow… now there’s a face even Momma won’t love. Who is that?”

It took a few seconds for Mitchell to stop laughing long enough to turn the bio-sheet around so she could see it. “Guy I’m fighting Sunday. Catch the red-eye to Pittsburgh on Saturday night, deal with him, rest up, and then I’m back here on Monday before heading out to Phoenix on Tuesday.” Just thinking about all that air travel was enough to leave him lagged. And he hadn’t even gotten on the damn jet yet!

Oh, that’s right… you started up wrestling again. Your father was here a couple days ago, he mentioned that, but I wasn’t really paying attention.” Giving him a sheepish smile, she turned and started loosening the ties on Casey’s gown. “I never really got into all that macho man stuff. My sons love it, though. Wouldn’t be surprised if they saw you doing whatever.” After she’d done all she could with him still in the room, she glanced back over her shoulder, shifting her eyes towards the door. “Alright, Daddy, time for us ladies to be alone. Should be done around nine, so go ahead and do what you need to do.”

Why didn’t it surprise him that Cody’d already been bragging about his comeback? …giving her another playful scowl at being kicked out of the room, he leaned in to press a peck to one of those soft cheeks, before leaning down to brush one across Casey’s forehead as well. Tucking the papers beneath his arm, he pocketed his free hand and stepped out into the hall. Despite being so early in the morning, two other nurses already manned the circular station in the middle of the intersection. One of them was new, at least new enough that he didn’t recognize her. She must have planned on questioning him, because she started to get up as he walked by, but the other nurse, Sheila, was one that knew him. Setting her hand to the younger one’s arm, she sat her down and leaned in close, probably to explain the situation. In all honesty, there were times he wished they weren’t so open about it. It was bad enough knowing that his only daughter was clawing for every last second of life on this Earth. It was worse knowing her own mother was the reason she had to do it! …knowing he could have prevented it was just the damn capper.

Balling his fist in his pocket, he followed the faded yellow line painted into the white tile flooring. He’d been to one or two hospitals that had those. Different colors led to different wings or sections of the building, like the cafeteria, the ICU, the pediatric ward. There was a pink line that sheered off towards the East Wing. He figured that led to the pediatric and infant wards, but turned left instead, still following the blue line until it stopped in front of two double-doors marked with a simple plate: ‘Cafeteria’. He’d only been inside once before, one of the first times he’d spent the night. The food honestly wasn’t that bad, considering. It wasn’t that great, but it was edible. There was no-one behind the counter yet, and both of the soda machines were switched off, but that was fine. He wasn’t here to eat. Grabbing one of the plastic cups, he filled it halfway with water and stole one of the corner booths up against the back wall. Laying the papers out on the Formica table, he slid into the booth and downed a brisk sip, catching one of the smaller cubes of ice in his mouth, crunching it between his teeth. Setting the cup aside, he leafed through the transcripts until he found the one Evans had given out against Katie Steward and her little ‘Brat Pack’.

For someone who called himself “The Outsider”, Evans seemed pretty hooked up on Jon Rich and the Tag Team Titles. Then again, maybe he planned on turning Rich into his own personal puppet. He’d known guys like that before. Silver-tongued bastards who got just about anything they wanted by brain-washing whoever was stupid enough to let ‘em talk for more than five minutes. Still, it wasn’t Evans’ vocabulary he had to be careful of… he just wanted to get a feel for the man, if he could. Evans wanted it loud and clear that he trusted no-one, cared for no-one, and couldn’t care less if the world went to hell in a hand-basket, long as it proved him right about something. That was another problem. It meant he felt like he had nothing to lose and everything to prove. Tie that in with razor-sharp wrestling skills and a mind that didn’t stop… and he was basically looking at a living, breathing brick wall… one that planned to crush him flat.

Shit.” Muttering under his breath, he set the first transcript off to the side and sought out the bio-sheet again. “Come on, you son of a bitch… there’s gotta’ be something I can work with.”

You could start by watching your mouth, please.”

Huh?” Looking up from the papers, Mitchell blinked when he realized the lights had been turned on. Scanning the room, he saw a redheaded woman standing next to one of the sandwich coolers.

She wasn’t a nurse, at least not one he knew. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a white silk blouse loose over the waistband. She had one of the plastic trays on the slider-rail, already stacked up with a Snapple from one of the coolers, and an apple out of the fruit basket. Giving him a lingering look over her shoulder, she turned back to the cooler and grabbed one of the Club wedges off the top shelf. Letting the cooler slide shut behind her, she turned and started for the double-doors without another look at him. By the time she made it halfway across the floor, he was already up out of his seat and moving to block her.

Hey, whoa, whoa… you plan on paying for those, or what?” Whoever she was, she didn’t work for the hospital. That much he knew. Stepping into her path, he moved in closer… and wound up having to blink himself out of a stare at the sight of her. The woman was absolutely breath-taking. Her face was smooth and subtle, with long-lashed eyes of a rich jade green and streaks of strawberry-blonde through her otherwise crimson-red hair, which fell across her shoulders and stopped just above the swells of her breasts. She wasn’t a ‘big’ woman, but the shape was perfect from what he could tell. Pulling his attention back up to her face, which had hardened to an impatient scowl, he struggled to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “I hope you don’t think you’re really just gonna’ walk out of here with all that.”

No, I don’t THINK I’m going to walk out.” Fixing him with a burning stare, the woman turned to the side without missing a step and checked him with her hip, knocking him back into the doors, which sent them swinging open. Righting herself, she swept around him and past, starting down the corridor towards the East Wing. Her voice echoed in the hall, but she never looked back. “I KNOW I’m going to.”

Hey!” Starting after her, he got around the corner just in time to see her push through the doors that led into the isolation ward. Slowing up, he reached for the handle, but it wouldn’t open. Giving it a couple pulls, he cupped his hand against the glass window and peered inside. The woman was just on the other side, slipping into one of the rooms. Stepping back from the door, he reached for the handle again, but finally noticed the keycard scanner mounted on the wall to the side. “…the hell?”

Did she have a hospital card? …he’d seen the one Gloria had to carry around, but she was the Head Nurse, so of course she’d have one. Whoever the woman was, she wasn’t a nurse. He was sure of it now. She wasn’t any part of the staff here. But, how’d she get hold of the card, then? …he’d ask Gloria when he went back. Cupping his hand to the window, he tried to peer inside again, but he couldn’t see the woman.

Damn…” Giving the glass a disappointed slap, he turned and started back towards the cafeteria, taking a couple looks back over his shoulder, just in case she came back out again, but she never did.

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Pausing at the door to Casey’s room, Mitchell just peeked around the frame. He couldn’t hear any water splashing, but Gloria could have been using a rag or a sponge instead of the tub. Keeping the papers tucked under his arm, he rapped a single knuckle against the frame before sticking his head into the room.

It’s all clear, honey, come on in.” Leaning back on her stool, Gloria beamed at him while motioning with her free hand. “She’s all cleaned up and ready to bring home all the wrong kind of boys.”

You mean there’s a right kind?” Hiding the trepidation behind a smile of his own, he moved into the room and set the papers back on the folder before turning his attention to his little girl. Thanks to the bath, her skin had a light shine to it now, bringing out the glow in her cheeks. Gloria had even shampooed her hair and braided it so it wouldn’t frizz. The gown was new, and so were the sheets. Circling around to the opposite side of the bed, he sank into his chair and just watched her sleep. “You’re out of your mind if you think some young punk’s gonna’ get his hands on my little girl.” Shooting the nurse a mock-scowl, he grinned.

Mm-Hmm, you say that now… but give it a few years. You’ll have ‘em showing up on your doorstep in droves.” Peeling off the latex gloves she’d been wearing, Gloria dropped them in the bedside bin before moving around to the foot, reaching for the clipboard hooked into the end. Scratching off a few of the check-boxes, she replaced the slate and looked over at him. “You plannin’ on sleepin’ here again?”

Why wouldn’t I?” His daughter was here, so here was where he needed to be. If she called out in her sleep, reached for him, or God forbid, even opened her eyes… he didn’t want to miss it over something as stupid as a bed. Reaching up to brush his hands through her hair, he watched the reddish-brown strands play through his fingers… wait a minute… red strands? …the woman. “Hey… Gloria?”

Turning from the linen closet with a folded blanket, the old nurse hiked a brow when she heard the tone in his voice. “Yeah. I’m right here, honey… something wrong?”

Some lady was in the cafeteria while I was there. Stole some food and vanished into the isolation ward… does she work here or something?” He decided to leave out the fact that she was damned beautiful. Given the way Gloria tended to flirt with him, he had a feeling she wouldn’t be real impressed.

The woman’s expression changed anyway as she handed him the blanket. Still, it was more of a compassionate look than anything. “No, she doesn’t. Her husband’s up there… been there a while now.”

In isolation? …that’s where they keep permanent care patients, isn’t it?” He hated to use the term ‘vegetable’. Yeah, it was common. Hell, most of the staff in the hospital used it, but they weren’t talking about carrots or pickles. Brain-dead or not, they were still human. “You said it’s her husband?”

That’s what I heard. I’m not allowed up there, so I don’t know for certain. I just know she’s married, saw the ring. Surprised you didn’t.” Hiking a brow, she playfully whapped him with the back of her hand before turning to leave. “Either way, she comes and goes ‘bout as much as you do, so they usually let her in, give her run of the place. She’ll probably bring some money down later today for the food she took.”

Spreading the blanket across his knees, he went about tucking it behind his shoulders. “Later; you mean she stays up there all day? …doesn’t she have a job or anything? …she’s got to be paying the bill somehow, right?”

I told you, sweetie, I don’t know the details. If you’re so curious, how ‘bout you ask her next time you see her.” There was a hint of a jealous whip in her voice, but when she turned to blow him a kiss goodnight, that soft warmth was back in her eyes. “Just make sure you remember she’s married, cowboy.”

Ha-Ha, funny, Gloria.” Shaking his head, he nodded his goodnights as she slipped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Turning his attention back to Casey, he leaned in close enough to brush his lips against her temple with a tender kiss. “Sweet dreams, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Settling back against the battered leather, he pulled the blanket tight, tucking it behind his shoulders before closing his eyes, and letting the slow, rhythmic hiss of the respirator lull him back into a fitful sleep.
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