renner
League Member
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2004
- Messages
- 178
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 40
- Location
- Oakland, TN, USA
- Website
- www.fetchquest.com
For the first round of the SCCW No Limit Tournament, versus Legion...
* . *
Nobody could ever say that Steve Knox was particularly antisocial.
Over the last nine months, he'd taken several people under his wing to travel with him. Many of them were strange and quirky, so much so that a lot of times, people thought Steve Knox was a weird guy. The truth was, Steve Knox was as normal as you or I. However, it was his talent for attracting strange people and situations to himself that made people believe in Steve being weird.
Steve had many associates and many friends, some of whom he'd never mention to other people.
On a cold March night in Providence, Steve Knox would unknowingly close the book on one such friend.
* . *
<i>March 17th, 2009; Providence, Rhode Island</i>
Steve Knox hated international travel more than anyone.
After making a surprise appearance at PRIME's Dual Halo, and leaving the match far sooner than he would have liked for a man of his reputation, he returned to his home in Providence after flying halfway around the world. He was jet lagged beyond anything resembling reason, and he was just settling back home on a quick break.
Truth be told, he had a number of other reasons to be in Providence, but he was mum to talk about them to his friends. In fact, this was a time in which none of his friends, specifically the people who often travel with him, were around. It was his downtime, his rare moment where he could be alone with his thoughts and enjoy time away from the wear and tear of the professional wrestling ring.
Steve elected to spend his time in a bar.
It was a small bar, located on the outskirts of Providence, by the name of "Smokin' Jimmy's". It was actually owned by a retired African-American professional wrestler named Jimmy Smalls, who used to wrestle during the heyday of Earl Knox, Steve's father. Despite his stage name (his real name was James Rosenfols), Jimmy was a huge man in his prime, though this was mainly because he was somewhat obese. Before his untimely death, Earl Knox was a regular visitor of this bar. After Steve turned 21, he became a semi-regular patron as well.
Steve, wearing a brown coat over a white sweater and black jeans, generally didn't try to make a scene of himself in the bar. It wasn't very crowded to begin with, and the bar itself only had a single individual on the far end. He happened to be so plastered that he had passed out with his face down.
Steve walked up to Jimmy, who served as the place's bartender, and sat down in front of him.
"Heya, Jimmy." he said as a greeting.
Jimmy was in his late 50s. Gone was his massive weight, and in its place was much more frail man, though he was still tall. His hair had fallen out, apart from his large, gray beard. It actually surprised Steve to see Jimmy in such a state, because when he first met him when he was fourteen, Jimmy was bigger than at least three of him. Now, the only thing Jimmy had on Steve was his height at 6'5".
"Mr. Knox." he said, solemnly, "The usual?"
"Yeah. Put it on my tab, will you?" Steve asked.
Jimmy smiled, "Oh, no need to worry about that. Far as I'm concerned, this is on the house."
Steve looked at Jimmy, slightly confused. Jimmy was always the sort of guy who'd try to talk his way out of paying the rent on time. Steve's dad even told him once that Jimmy was "the ultimate cheapskate". So, the words "on the house" seemed strange and foreign out of the lips of the former wrestler.
"There a catch with this?" Steve asked Jimmy, as Jimmy placed a shotglass of scotch in front of Steve.
"No." Jimmy said, flatly.
After a pause, Steve took the shotglass and took down its contents in a single swig. His hand and the glass hit the bar fairly hard, and he exhaled. Jimmy chuckled at him, "Take it one sip at a time, Stevie. It's still strong stuff, you know."
Steve Knox had a pretty high alcohol tolerance, and he never really felt that he should test it. He didn't ask for another, and he looked up at Jimmy's eyes. He could see that there was something wrong.
"Something you're not telling me, Jimmy?" Steve asked.
Jimmy paused, and then he spoke his next few words with a quiet, solemn tone, "I had a vision last night, man."
Steve absorbed the words, and slowly looked around at the bar. Most of the patrons were buzzed out of their skulls, most of them probably weren't going to be nearly as coherent as Steve would be right now. He decided to gamble with this conversation, "A vision? You sure you're not sampling some of your own product, Jimmy?"
"No, no. This was... vivid. It wasn't like anything I'd ever experienced before. A beautiful garden, far as the eye could see. A nice cool breeze, makin' all the flowers sway towards me. My wife, God bless her soul, was sitting in the middle of that garden, smilin' at me." Jimmy said, a smile on his face, "I was at peace, Stevie. For the first time since she passed, I was at peace."
Steve pushed his shotglass forward as if asking for another drink.
"Sounds like you saw heaven, to me." Steve said.
"Maybe." Jimmy said. His features drooped into a frown, as he reached for the bottle of scotch and poured Steve his second shotglass.
"Thing was, there was also this little girl." Jimmy said.
"A girl? It wasn't your daughter, I hope?" Steve asked, as he took the shotglass in his hand. Another swig of the alcohol created a similar reaction as the first time he did it.
"No, man. This girl, she was white. Like you, maybe a bit paler." Jimmy said. He took a second shotglass and poured himself some of the same stuff, "Pretty, though. Can't remember what she called herself. All I remember is what she told me."
Steve's curiosity was piqued, "What'd she tell you?"
Jimmy looked sad, yet he also looked to be happy, "Today's my last day. I won't be here tomorrow."
Steve wondered if he could get away with one more shot and still be capable of driving. He looked up at Jimmy, not sure what he was talking about, "What do you mean? You moving or something?"
"In a manner of speaking," Jimmy said, before he threw back the shot he'd just poured himself. After breathing in some air, Jimmy continued, "Think I'm gonna die, Stevie."
"You? No way." Steve denied, adding a laugh, though he found it falling on deaf ears.
"That girl, she spoke with me frankly. She probably ain't even older than Myra, but... she spoke so intelligently. It's like she knew me my whole life, man. She spoke of what I did in life, and expressed sympathy for havin' to pass on and leave Myra," Jimmy said, "She said I had some disease, I dunno what. But it's why I look like this now."
He gestured at his more withered form, "She said that my time had come, and she wanted to let me know in advance `cause she knew that I saved as much as I could to ensure Myra's future."
It felt like his words had taken the energy right out of the room.
"So, this little girl tells you that you're dying," Steve said, "And you believed her?"
"If you'd met her, Stevie, you'd believe her, too." were Jimmy's only response to Steve's question.
Steve thought about it for a moment. He decided that he wanted to ask one more question, even though he might not want to know the answer to the question, "So, do you remember anything else about her?"
"`Bout the only thing that comes to mind is that she wore this jewel around her neck. It was red, like blood." the withered former wrestler said, before he tilted his head at Steve Knox and asked his own question, "Why, you seen her, too?"
"I just want to know what I'd be up against in case I have my own visions." Steve said with a realistic chuckle. In truth, he knew just whom Jimmy Smalls was referring to, and it sunk his feelings down to a record low. However, he was able to hide this from Jimmy, due to having what he sometimes described as his father's "actor's blood".
"Right, right." Jimmy said with a smile, "But man, it made me go and write up my will. If it's true and I die, man, Myra's gettin' everything I've got left. She's the only family I got, now that Liz died. Just a shame, though... she just finished high school."
Steve couldn't let Jimmy's spirits get down with his own, "Come on, Jimmy. You'll be fine. Come tomorrow, you can call me up and we can laugh about this little conversation."
To make that point clear, Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a business card and placing it on the counter top. Jimmy slides the card off the table and into his hand, examining it before sticking it in his pocket. He gave Steve a smile.
"Sure. You'll be the first to know."
* . *
<i>March 18th, 2009; Providence, Rhode Island</i>
Whenever Steve was back home in Providence, he always made it a habit to stay in the family home.
When he left to become a professional wrestler, he took little with him. As a result, many of the items in his room hardly ever changed. The only people who come into the room other than himself were the people who went and cleaned off the dust that inevitably built up in his often unoccupied room.
That morning, Steve did his normal routine. He woke up, slammed his hand on the snooze button on his alarm clock, tried to sleep for another thirty minutes, failed at that, grudgingly woke up, staggered into the bathroom, took a shower, brushed his teeth, shaved, and then got dressed. He would then head downstairs and acquired the local newspaper.
It was around this time that his cousin, Lieselotte Weber, walked in. She was a German-born girl taken into the family some years ago by Steve's father upon the deaths of her parents. Lieselotte had very long brown hair that reached her thighs, and she wore somewhat gothic clothing, specifically a lacy black dress and striped stockings. Apart from the stockings, though, she wore no shoes. Lieselotte was close only to Simon, Steve's younger brother, but she still greeted Steve with a smile and a wave, "Morning."
"Morning." was Steve's listless response. He was still tired, and he had something similar to a low, dull ache in his head. Perhaps he drank too much, last night.
"You got a phone call." Lieselotte told Steve. Steve always marvelled at the differences between the way Lieselotte treated himself and the way Lieselotte treated Simon Knox. Around Simon, she seemed to enjoy carrying on a conversation and seemed extremely affectionate towards him on a level beyond family ties. Around Steve, she was quick and to the point, and he'd often have to press her for details.
"Was it from somebody named Jimmy Smalls?" Steve asked, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Not exactly. It was his daughter, I think." Lieselotte said, before she shrugged her shoulders and carried on, "Apparently, Mr. Smalls died in his sleep last night."
Steve couldn't feel the newspaper slipping from his hands admidst his digestion of that bit of news.
"He *what*?" was Steve's incredulous response.
"He died." was Lieselotte's simple response to Steve's incredulous response.
Steve stammered for a response, "Wha-how... there's no way that happened."
"Hmm," Lieselotte hummed, "Are you in denial, maybe?"
Steve calmed down and after a moment of rational thought, he oferred his best possible explaination, "I just talked to him last night, Liese. I gave him my card to call me in the morning. There's no way he died."
"That's why that girl... I think her name was Myra, called us. She believes you were the last person, other than herself, to talk to Mr. Smalls before he passed away," Lieselotte explained, "She called to thank you for talking to him, he apparently had been depressed until last night."
Steve Knox sulked back in his chair. The story that Jimmy gave him the previous night, the hangover he acquired from the drinking, and the news of his sudden death all hit him at once. He had to know if it was true, though, so he asked Lieselotte for the phone, and fiddled with it until he came up with the last number that called. On the other end was the voice of distraught young girl.
"H-hello?"
Steve had a bad feeling that this wasn't some joke that his cousin was pulling on him, "Hey, this is Steve Knox. I heard you called?"
"Oh... yes. I-I'm sorry. M-My, uh... my dad... died."
She could hardly muster the strength to say those words. Steve now knew the validity of Jimmy's death. Not even his dad could've acted his way into that sort of performance.
After a pause on Steve's end, "...I'm sorry for your loss. I just... had to know if it was true."
Steve didn't remember what else was said, nor did he remember much else about the rest of that day.
The only thing he could remember was Jimmy's story of the little girl he saw in his vision, and what that could mean for his own future.
* . *
Nobody could ever say that Steve Knox was particularly antisocial.
Over the last nine months, he'd taken several people under his wing to travel with him. Many of them were strange and quirky, so much so that a lot of times, people thought Steve Knox was a weird guy. The truth was, Steve Knox was as normal as you or I. However, it was his talent for attracting strange people and situations to himself that made people believe in Steve being weird.
Steve had many associates and many friends, some of whom he'd never mention to other people.
On a cold March night in Providence, Steve Knox would unknowingly close the book on one such friend.
* . *
<i>March 17th, 2009; Providence, Rhode Island</i>
Steve Knox hated international travel more than anyone.
After making a surprise appearance at PRIME's Dual Halo, and leaving the match far sooner than he would have liked for a man of his reputation, he returned to his home in Providence after flying halfway around the world. He was jet lagged beyond anything resembling reason, and he was just settling back home on a quick break.
Truth be told, he had a number of other reasons to be in Providence, but he was mum to talk about them to his friends. In fact, this was a time in which none of his friends, specifically the people who often travel with him, were around. It was his downtime, his rare moment where he could be alone with his thoughts and enjoy time away from the wear and tear of the professional wrestling ring.
Steve elected to spend his time in a bar.
It was a small bar, located on the outskirts of Providence, by the name of "Smokin' Jimmy's". It was actually owned by a retired African-American professional wrestler named Jimmy Smalls, who used to wrestle during the heyday of Earl Knox, Steve's father. Despite his stage name (his real name was James Rosenfols), Jimmy was a huge man in his prime, though this was mainly because he was somewhat obese. Before his untimely death, Earl Knox was a regular visitor of this bar. After Steve turned 21, he became a semi-regular patron as well.
Steve, wearing a brown coat over a white sweater and black jeans, generally didn't try to make a scene of himself in the bar. It wasn't very crowded to begin with, and the bar itself only had a single individual on the far end. He happened to be so plastered that he had passed out with his face down.
Steve walked up to Jimmy, who served as the place's bartender, and sat down in front of him.
"Heya, Jimmy." he said as a greeting.
Jimmy was in his late 50s. Gone was his massive weight, and in its place was much more frail man, though he was still tall. His hair had fallen out, apart from his large, gray beard. It actually surprised Steve to see Jimmy in such a state, because when he first met him when he was fourteen, Jimmy was bigger than at least three of him. Now, the only thing Jimmy had on Steve was his height at 6'5".
"Mr. Knox." he said, solemnly, "The usual?"
"Yeah. Put it on my tab, will you?" Steve asked.
Jimmy smiled, "Oh, no need to worry about that. Far as I'm concerned, this is on the house."
Steve looked at Jimmy, slightly confused. Jimmy was always the sort of guy who'd try to talk his way out of paying the rent on time. Steve's dad even told him once that Jimmy was "the ultimate cheapskate". So, the words "on the house" seemed strange and foreign out of the lips of the former wrestler.
"There a catch with this?" Steve asked Jimmy, as Jimmy placed a shotglass of scotch in front of Steve.
"No." Jimmy said, flatly.
After a pause, Steve took the shotglass and took down its contents in a single swig. His hand and the glass hit the bar fairly hard, and he exhaled. Jimmy chuckled at him, "Take it one sip at a time, Stevie. It's still strong stuff, you know."
Steve Knox had a pretty high alcohol tolerance, and he never really felt that he should test it. He didn't ask for another, and he looked up at Jimmy's eyes. He could see that there was something wrong.
"Something you're not telling me, Jimmy?" Steve asked.
Jimmy paused, and then he spoke his next few words with a quiet, solemn tone, "I had a vision last night, man."
Steve absorbed the words, and slowly looked around at the bar. Most of the patrons were buzzed out of their skulls, most of them probably weren't going to be nearly as coherent as Steve would be right now. He decided to gamble with this conversation, "A vision? You sure you're not sampling some of your own product, Jimmy?"
"No, no. This was... vivid. It wasn't like anything I'd ever experienced before. A beautiful garden, far as the eye could see. A nice cool breeze, makin' all the flowers sway towards me. My wife, God bless her soul, was sitting in the middle of that garden, smilin' at me." Jimmy said, a smile on his face, "I was at peace, Stevie. For the first time since she passed, I was at peace."
Steve pushed his shotglass forward as if asking for another drink.
"Sounds like you saw heaven, to me." Steve said.
"Maybe." Jimmy said. His features drooped into a frown, as he reached for the bottle of scotch and poured Steve his second shotglass.
"Thing was, there was also this little girl." Jimmy said.
"A girl? It wasn't your daughter, I hope?" Steve asked, as he took the shotglass in his hand. Another swig of the alcohol created a similar reaction as the first time he did it.
"No, man. This girl, she was white. Like you, maybe a bit paler." Jimmy said. He took a second shotglass and poured himself some of the same stuff, "Pretty, though. Can't remember what she called herself. All I remember is what she told me."
Steve's curiosity was piqued, "What'd she tell you?"
Jimmy looked sad, yet he also looked to be happy, "Today's my last day. I won't be here tomorrow."
Steve wondered if he could get away with one more shot and still be capable of driving. He looked up at Jimmy, not sure what he was talking about, "What do you mean? You moving or something?"
"In a manner of speaking," Jimmy said, before he threw back the shot he'd just poured himself. After breathing in some air, Jimmy continued, "Think I'm gonna die, Stevie."
"You? No way." Steve denied, adding a laugh, though he found it falling on deaf ears.
"That girl, she spoke with me frankly. She probably ain't even older than Myra, but... she spoke so intelligently. It's like she knew me my whole life, man. She spoke of what I did in life, and expressed sympathy for havin' to pass on and leave Myra," Jimmy said, "She said I had some disease, I dunno what. But it's why I look like this now."
He gestured at his more withered form, "She said that my time had come, and she wanted to let me know in advance `cause she knew that I saved as much as I could to ensure Myra's future."
It felt like his words had taken the energy right out of the room.
"So, this little girl tells you that you're dying," Steve said, "And you believed her?"
"If you'd met her, Stevie, you'd believe her, too." were Jimmy's only response to Steve's question.
Steve thought about it for a moment. He decided that he wanted to ask one more question, even though he might not want to know the answer to the question, "So, do you remember anything else about her?"
"`Bout the only thing that comes to mind is that she wore this jewel around her neck. It was red, like blood." the withered former wrestler said, before he tilted his head at Steve Knox and asked his own question, "Why, you seen her, too?"
"I just want to know what I'd be up against in case I have my own visions." Steve said with a realistic chuckle. In truth, he knew just whom Jimmy Smalls was referring to, and it sunk his feelings down to a record low. However, he was able to hide this from Jimmy, due to having what he sometimes described as his father's "actor's blood".
"Right, right." Jimmy said with a smile, "But man, it made me go and write up my will. If it's true and I die, man, Myra's gettin' everything I've got left. She's the only family I got, now that Liz died. Just a shame, though... she just finished high school."
Steve couldn't let Jimmy's spirits get down with his own, "Come on, Jimmy. You'll be fine. Come tomorrow, you can call me up and we can laugh about this little conversation."
To make that point clear, Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a business card and placing it on the counter top. Jimmy slides the card off the table and into his hand, examining it before sticking it in his pocket. He gave Steve a smile.
"Sure. You'll be the first to know."
* . *
<i>March 18th, 2009; Providence, Rhode Island</i>
Whenever Steve was back home in Providence, he always made it a habit to stay in the family home.
When he left to become a professional wrestler, he took little with him. As a result, many of the items in his room hardly ever changed. The only people who come into the room other than himself were the people who went and cleaned off the dust that inevitably built up in his often unoccupied room.
That morning, Steve did his normal routine. He woke up, slammed his hand on the snooze button on his alarm clock, tried to sleep for another thirty minutes, failed at that, grudgingly woke up, staggered into the bathroom, took a shower, brushed his teeth, shaved, and then got dressed. He would then head downstairs and acquired the local newspaper.
It was around this time that his cousin, Lieselotte Weber, walked in. She was a German-born girl taken into the family some years ago by Steve's father upon the deaths of her parents. Lieselotte had very long brown hair that reached her thighs, and she wore somewhat gothic clothing, specifically a lacy black dress and striped stockings. Apart from the stockings, though, she wore no shoes. Lieselotte was close only to Simon, Steve's younger brother, but she still greeted Steve with a smile and a wave, "Morning."
"Morning." was Steve's listless response. He was still tired, and he had something similar to a low, dull ache in his head. Perhaps he drank too much, last night.
"You got a phone call." Lieselotte told Steve. Steve always marvelled at the differences between the way Lieselotte treated himself and the way Lieselotte treated Simon Knox. Around Simon, she seemed to enjoy carrying on a conversation and seemed extremely affectionate towards him on a level beyond family ties. Around Steve, she was quick and to the point, and he'd often have to press her for details.
"Was it from somebody named Jimmy Smalls?" Steve asked, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Not exactly. It was his daughter, I think." Lieselotte said, before she shrugged her shoulders and carried on, "Apparently, Mr. Smalls died in his sleep last night."
Steve couldn't feel the newspaper slipping from his hands admidst his digestion of that bit of news.
"He *what*?" was Steve's incredulous response.
"He died." was Lieselotte's simple response to Steve's incredulous response.
Steve stammered for a response, "Wha-how... there's no way that happened."
"Hmm," Lieselotte hummed, "Are you in denial, maybe?"
Steve calmed down and after a moment of rational thought, he oferred his best possible explaination, "I just talked to him last night, Liese. I gave him my card to call me in the morning. There's no way he died."
"That's why that girl... I think her name was Myra, called us. She believes you were the last person, other than herself, to talk to Mr. Smalls before he passed away," Lieselotte explained, "She called to thank you for talking to him, he apparently had been depressed until last night."
Steve Knox sulked back in his chair. The story that Jimmy gave him the previous night, the hangover he acquired from the drinking, and the news of his sudden death all hit him at once. He had to know if it was true, though, so he asked Lieselotte for the phone, and fiddled with it until he came up with the last number that called. On the other end was the voice of distraught young girl.
"H-hello?"
Steve had a bad feeling that this wasn't some joke that his cousin was pulling on him, "Hey, this is Steve Knox. I heard you called?"
"Oh... yes. I-I'm sorry. M-My, uh... my dad... died."
She could hardly muster the strength to say those words. Steve now knew the validity of Jimmy's death. Not even his dad could've acted his way into that sort of performance.
After a pause on Steve's end, "...I'm sorry for your loss. I just... had to know if it was true."
Steve didn't remember what else was said, nor did he remember much else about the rest of that day.
The only thing he could remember was Jimmy's story of the little girl he saw in his vision, and what that could mean for his own future.