Here I Stand The Diary: Part I The Nest Cole did have a map in his backpack. He’d studied it in the parking garage. Only now that he was already on the subway did it occur to him that it might be outdated. What a foolish mistake on his part, to assume that he could rely on a thirty-year-old map Cole loathed mistakes Next stop-fifth avenue? That couldn’t be right. Fifth was on the wrong side of the park, wasn’t it? He’d decided to take the train into Manhattan because he’d had difficulty once when he’d taken a cab. The stop-and-start traffic had made him carsick, which had been very unpleasant for both him and the cab driver, who had neither seen nor smelled regurgitated blood before. And of course, as soon as his stomach was emptied, he had to prevent the Thirst that would inevitably follow. He’d quickly fed on the cabdriver, a hairy man who apparently was not fond of bathing. He’d had to take more than usual; then he’d felt bad about leaving the man unconscious and tucked a large tip into the guy’s shirt pocket. Now Cole sat, feeling the muted throb of the tracks under the car, and he had an uncomfortable suspicion he was moving farther and farther away from where he needed to be He did not want to pull out his own map. To pull out a map and pore over it in New York City screamed TOURIST! COME ROB ME!!! But there was no help for it. He was an idiot. He should have gotten a new map and studied it before he even got out of his car He got off at the next stop-Lexington Avenue-back pack slung over his shoulders. He did not like using the backpack, which crushed and wrinkled the clothes inside. Of course, he had not wanted to come into the city at all-but his wants had nothing to do with it, and the backpack was less obtrusive than his suitcase, which had wheels and a handle that popped up Real eighteen-year-old guys, Cole felt, did not walk alone at night wheeling luggage on the subways and streets of Manhattan. He walked across the platform as quickly as possible and leaned with his back against the concrete wall, under the faint sterile buzz of a fluorescent light. There he pulled out the map and discreetly unfolded one corner, hoping that would be enough to give him a clue where Lexington Ave was in the scheme of things. It wasn’t. He unfurled the whole damn thing. Fine, he was a teenage tourist But the map didn’t make any sense. Cole didn’t even know where he was. And all those colored lines branching off. Now, here he was who knew where, holding a tangled mess of lines on a paper that was worse than useless because the stupid trains didn’t always stop at each station that was marked. No, they sometimes skipped stations, which, now that he thought about it, was likely what had happened to him. Or perhaps he’d gotten on the wrong train in the first place, back when he’d switched from the PATH train. God. He’d have to go up, get his bearings, and walk to his destination Unless he was in Queens. Or any place that didn’t have streets numbered in a grid The problem was that he’d been too complacent. Cole had thought he already had the answers when he knew that the moment you let down your guard is the moment you start making mistakes. He’d just thought he could remember from the last time he’d been here. He couldn’t recall the year exactly, but it was the summer Lady Di married Prince Charles. He remembered because Mina and Alice had kept Johnny’s TV tuned in to the wedding Now, map still in hand, he headed up the concrete stairs to the sidewalk to look at street signs and figure out where he was He’d only stayed a few weeks during the Charles and Di summer. The longest Cole had ever stayed in Manhattan was for three of four years, back when Johnny had first bought the building; but that was before the subways had been extended this far At the top of the steps Cole paused, map in his hand. It had rained recently, but not much. The air was damp and heavy and smelled of wet streets and steamy concrete, but the only water was a trickle in the gutters, a darker patch here and there on the sidewalk. Not far away, under the corner street sign, some guy in a greasy overcoat was dancing in the middle of the sidewalk, flapping his arms slowly, his eyes on an invisible somebody right in front of him Code red, Code red Cole heard him announce to the somebody Frequency forty-nine had been alerted. Clearance requested from the emperor All right. There was no hurry; it was several hours till dawn. And Cole did not know why Johnny had called him in, but if it had been urgent, there was no question that Johnny would have told him so Of course, he had not tried to find out what it was all about. He’d felt a vague discomfort licking at him, but rather than ask Johnny why he wanted him to come in, Cole had asked instead: Is everything all right? And Johnny had said yes Anything beyond that, he knew, could wait He peered at the strange man again-he could almost smell the stale odor of unwashed clothes from here. He wasn’t afraid of the guy, just reluctant to get involved in a hassle out on a public street Need help? Cole turned. It was a woman. Not hemovore. An Omnivore. You could always tell even if no bodily movements gave it away. An omni’s eyes had a stunted, undeveloped look, while a heme’s gaze was ripe to the core. This omni woman had short gray hair, wore jeans, and carried a canvas bag looped over one shoulder I’m lost He hoped she was not a mugger. He hated the way muggers reacted when they shot him badly and he didn’t fall down. He hated it even more when they shot him well and he did Where are you trying to go? She sounded matter-of-fact, but she stayed just out of reach; she wasn’t completely stupid. Only partially so, helping a stranger at night He took one more look at the useless map, then crumpled it up into a ball and dropped it into a trash can next to the railing. Im trying to get to West one Hundred and Second. He put his hands in his pockets so it wouldn’t look s if he were about to grab her. Then it occurred to him that she might think he was digging for a weapon, so he took his hands out. Then he wasn’t sure what to do with them He ended up clasping them in front of him like a fig leaf. He hated New York You need to take the V train back to Rockefeller center, then catch the B. I’m pretty sure it stops at One Hundred and Third. You can get off and walk from there Okay Cole had no idea what she’d just said Thank you He decided he’d find a cab and just hope it was a short ride No problem She tugged the bag up over her shoulder and had started to turn away when Cole spoke Listen, you shouldn’t approach strangers at night. It’s not wise She paused but didn’t stop I knew it was okay, you have kind eyes and you’re wearing a cross He looked down. He always wore the necklace under his shirt, but sometimes it worked its way out to dangle in full view. It was a cross, made of two nails bound together with wire He dropped it back inside his collar so that it hung against his skin. By the time he looked up, the woman was gone, disappeared down the stairs as if swept away by a current. He stood looking after her for a second, knowing he’d never see her again. That’s the way it always was; he stood still while everyone else got swallowed up and lost Luckily, he saw a taxi down the street dropping off two people; and as he raised his hand and started toward it, he wondered again just why Johnny had asked him to come back… To come back to wrestling… __________ The eagle has pretty much made it’s comfy landing in NLCW, ready and waiting to dig into one’s ass. The much anticipated debut from myself. Much is expected from me in this company. Never ever been to a land of no limits, but I am here now, and these fans fucking adore a blood sucker. It’s too early to call me the ‘savior’ for NLCW ... that position is already filled, sadly to say. However, a messiah would be suitable, ... no, messiah is too cliche’ ... Just call me NLCW’s Dark Knight. Why? Well you all will soon see. My fame here in No Limit Wrestling will be like snapping fingers. I have that confidence. Overconfident? Maybe, but I have the right to be. Donovan St. Thorn, were both have a lot to prove. Were both joking for a spot on the overcrowded spotlight. Everyone feeds into the newbie buzz, and fail to realize that either you come in to a promotion and stand your ground, standing up and proving otherwise, or you go into your dressing room and cry until their tank is fucking empty. I’m hoping you’ll be the one who keeps his ground ... Donavan, I can already read your mind going into this match. Wanting to prove to the rest of the world just how much of a ‘bad-ass’ you really are. Showing the world just what you can do, the basic “wanting to prove you wrong, I can defeat you!”. I’m not doubting, because any given night, anyone can go down. Not everyone is ‘undefeatable’. However darling, this week ... I’m going to be straight up with you on this ... I’m looking to rip out your confidence and the bit of pride you have ... Sure, laugh it off, talk about it on your myspace blog about what this goth kid named Cole Marr said he was going to do to you. It’s all good and gravy, love ... just do me one favor .... Don’t cry later when your body has been bruised by these god-given ‘thunder fists’. I could care less if you were new, old, man, she-male, or whatever... these fists are going to make contact and heat-seek it’s way to a knock out. I am that driven ... I will not take a debut defeat here in NLCW. I’m going to do whatever it takes to pull out a victory. I want your best this week, Donavan. I want to see if you can really prove me wrong and yourself right. I want to see if you can ‘roll’ along with me and kick my ass. Or will it just be the other way around? Show me, prove me..... Defeat me I’m ready to rock and roll with the others that have already etched and sketched their names and career into the books. I will soon join that elite list. I’m going to start it all off with Donavan St. Thorne, in what should be a good match. Too bad he’ll be turned upside down and used as a Swiffer Jet, while I mop the canvas with what will be left of his body. So sad ... so, so sad ... These are the breaks, however ... In every road you cross, Donavan... it will be several bumps within it. As much as you try to fix and forget, it just remains there. It can’t be healed up. It’s there for the rest of your career. The only possible choice you can do is just keep rolling on strong. Sad to say, your first bump will be seen this Avulsion. I know you hate to hear it, but ... it’s just the way it is. You have to live with it ... I thank you for being so brave to put your body through so much pain and giving me my first win here. It’s been fun, it’s been great, but son ... I must go now.