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The Diary: Part II The Introduction to Life It was past four in the morning by the time Cole was buzzed into a hallway that smelled faintly of wax and polish. His sneakers made no noise on the tiled floor Cole ignored the first door-it was no longer used and went directly to the one at the back. Johnny’s apartment took up the two bottom floors A lanky guy with a flop of red hair let him in. It was Mitch-Laid-back, easygoing Mitch Hey Cole, Long time no see Mitchell Come on in, man. How’re the boondocks? Amazing Cole answered, stepping into the apartment. The people actually wait for the lights to change before trying to cross the street Uh-huh, Well…Johnny’s out back Of course Johnny would be out there. He spent most evening on the patio, until it got cold. And most of the other hemes would be with him. What they did, mostly, was sit around talking, exactly like some of the suburban omnis Cole had seen hanging out in their yards in the summer, chatting while their kids played hide-and-seek or football Cole considered. He was thoroughly out of sorts after the stupid subway-out of patience, out of energy. But he ought to check in, see what was going on… I’ll just go put my things up, then I’ll come out Whatever floats your boat, Johnny said you could have four-and-a-half. Do you want a feed? Cole did not like open feeding; he was out of the habit, and it made him uncomfortable. But he always took a feed when it was available-that was only wise, to keep desire from taking recognizable form so that it would never, ever turn into need Just a small bit Sure, Gotcha. Just give me a sec And Mitch disappeared through the swinging door that led into the kitchen Cole looked around the apartment. Most of the furniture had changed since the last time he was here. The white rugs were new. And those overstuffed chairs-they were new too. The couch was leather now. A flat screen TV hung on the wall, tuned to ESPN The place was large, for Manhattan. The door next to the TV led to the kitchen-a real kitchen, Cole knew, that you could walk around in. In the corner a spiral staircase led to the second-floor bedrooms. Next to that, a small hallway. And Across the living room, a sliding glass door led to the patio. Cole could see movement outside. He couldn’t put his finger on any one thing about Johnny’s apartment that made him uncomfortable. It was welcoming and clean. You could discuss an art exhibit or watch a football game and not feel out of place. You could feed anytime you wanted, take naps on the couch, never worry about sun. Everyone was safe here; everyone who entered was insulated from risk, from extremes And, after all, was that such a bad thing? Mitch came back, pulling an Omni by the hand. It was a girl with her eyes heavily outlined in black, her dyed black hair framed on one side in red, the other in purple. Of course she wore black. The building omnis almost always did Cole smiled automatically-his smile was one of his weapons-but it wasn’t necessary, because she held out her hand with a flourish. Her eyes stayed on him as he slowly took her hand in his. Mitch didn’t leave, or turn away-he just stood there watching the basketball game, apparently waiting for Cole to finish This was, after all, the building. Open feeding was an everyday occurrence Cole turned the omni’s hand over and lifted her wrist. There were scars on it, small circles healed and half healed. This, too, was something he was unused to. He pulled out the necklace hidden under his shirt and gently punctured her skin with one of the nails He watched her face as he fed. There they went the eyes, growing dazed, unfocused. Most of the time, on the road, you didn’t get to see their faces. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like, the slow tease of open feeding-but he’d put it out of his mind Now her eyelids grew heavy, half shut. Her lips relaxed and parted. Her breath seemed to unwind from somewhere beneath her breasts, escaping in a heavy sigh That’s what happened to them; they got lost in a haze of pleasure and well-being, like flies doped into paralysis by a spider. Watching them certainly added another dimension to the whole experience. It became about more than just sustenance when you could see their faces The danger was in getting caught up in it. When she swayed on her feet, Cole realized that he had fed longer than usual, enjoying the moment. The building could do that to you in just a few seconds He lifted his head, the small cut in her skin ceasing to bleed in the same instant. He watched as the girl’s eyes began to focus. He did not release her hand, waiting to make sure she was steady on her feet Do you need to sit down? She shook her head Well, Thank you Thank you She looked speculatively up at him I’m Mary Kate, and you’re cute. Going to be around for a while? I’m not sure Cole turned to Mitch Can I have that key now? Um? Mitch tore his gaze away from the TV Sure, Right He reached to a rack by the door and pulled off a key Here, four-and-a-half, give a shout if you need anything Thanks, I will. See you in a few Good deal Want any company? Thank you, but no Later? I-I don’t know The omnis here were almost like groupies I have some things to do, and I’m a little tired; I’ve been on the road all night Okay, But I got to you first, so you have to pick me if you want anything. Promise? Yes, I promise Out in the hall he boarded the elevator, it was oddly shaped, small and elongated so that two passengers had to stand shoulder to shoulder facing the door Cole of course was alone, he pressed the button for the fourth floor and waited And waited And waited Finally, with a painful lurch, the elevator rose and began to thrum slowly upward. It would have been quicker to take the stairs He had always felt an odd affection for this awful piece of machinery, lumbering on like a faithful ox pulling its plow decade after decade. For the first time, he felt pleased to be in New York As the elevator door opened on the fourth floor, he heard piano music Cole got out. The music came from one for the fourth-floor apartments. Probably Elise. She lived elsewhere in the city, but came here to practice every night The elevator only went to the fourth floor. Apartment four-and-a-half was on a landing carved into the middle of the long staircase between four and five-a mere blip in the stairs. The apartment farther up were not often used, he knew, except for one at the back of the building HE trudged up the stairs with his backpack, then hesitated on the landing. He turned his head and looked up toward the fifth floor A light shone at the top of the stairs. For a brief moment he considered walking up and knocking on the door of that one apartment He only held on to the thought for a second or two before putting it aside. There was no point in going up there. It wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t even be noticed He knew Johnny’s request had nothing to do with the fifth floor. Everything would always be the same up there So he unlocked the door to four-and-a-half and walked in. Four-and-a-half had two bedrooms and no living room. The shower trickled mostly cold water, and the kitchen was the size of a bathtub. He was quite familiar with four-and-a-half. He usually ended up staying in it when he was here He unpacked, then sorted his laundry; tomorrow night he would take advantage of the washer and dryer in the basement Finally, he was ready. He locked the door carefully behind him and rode the ancient elevator down This time he did not knock at the door of Johnny’s apartment but walked right in… __________ Where does my focus lie this week? On a former champion in multiple companies. My focus lies on a man who has done so much by himself in the past, but now here in the present he doesn't seem to do much but sit around and smoke himself stupid. While I give him the credit he deserves as being one of the former great No Limit wrestlers, that was then, this is now. What are you going to do when you run out of breath against me Frank? Instinctively reach for another hit? Pray for the Buddha to magically save you from yet another embarrassing lose Please, are you even still in shape to last longer than ten minutes in a match before begging for a breather? These are all questions that I fully intend to answer on Avulsion, you can believe that. When I look at you Frank, nothing worries me. You're a former champion? Big deal, I've beaten former champions. You're sort of a big thing around these woods... once again, not really a big deal... personally I think most of you Originals are easier to run circles around. I'm not taking anything away from you Frank, I'm just simply stating that right now, you're used to sitting at home, taking bong hits rather than lacing up your boots, really enjoying your down time rather than wrestling. And this week, I’m facing you. Sure, you have a decorated career in active competition, but that was in the past. What have you done by yourself recently, other than buy a dime bag? I'd really love to know. My trail of destruction speaks for itself. You may have been bigger then King kong, but now you're nothing more than chronic hit that you need to take in order to keep yourself preservation. See, you are past your prime. You used to be a great wrestler, now your name doesn’t carry the merit to be a sticky thread on the roster... You haven’t done anything mentionable since NLCW's been struggling to stay afloat. So what do you really bring to the table? Strength? That isn't much without the speed or brawn to use it effectively. And lord knows that you're not exactly the leading participant in either of those categories. So let's face facts now Frank. I'm faster on my feet and in my mind than you. I have more drive, more heart, more stamina, and more will than you ever had. My words ring truth at such a level that it makes people sick. Face it, no one likes to admit that I'm right all the time. But just because you don't want to admit it, doesn't make it true. I am the future face of this company, so get used to this picture. In a few years, my name will be worldwide and spoken in every household on a daily basis. Kids in school will record my rants and recite them endlessly just for the small hope that they can pull off something I've said in an argument against someone else. See, when people listen to you talk, all they say is "How many different ways can you say the same thing?" When people listen to me speak, they all say "Why didn't I think of that?" You're long forgotten and no longer respected Frank. A washed up relic left over from an age of glory. Avulsion, I'm going to introduce you to the modern face of professional wrestling. I'm not a Dom or an Chris Champion... yet. But by the time my illustrious career is over, I won't be compared to these people, they'll be compared to me. I know you don't believe any of this. Why should you? I mean, it's not like anyone else I've faced has believed a word that's come out of my mouth. Look where they ended up... in the same place you're going to end up. You’ll be lying under me, as the ref counts the… One... Two... Three... |