The sweet, yet choking, smell of menthol and nicotine from a Newport cigarette fills the air. The lights are all off, and nothing can be seen except for a yellow-orange cherry bobbing up and down as the handler smokes it. The lights come up on Ichabod sitting in a chair in his room, and he looks up slowly at Steve.
You ok, Ichy? Why are you sitting in the dark?
Ichabod begins to speak, and it is already clear that this is not the Ichy we all know and love. Its the other version of him... the version which is stuck in the past... the version controlled by the chip in his head. He looks almost sad--but at the same time, he looks contemptuous of his feelings.
What's happening to me, Steve? All I know is everything is going smoothly, then Selena disappears for this... B-Pac. Wicked D, Reverend, and Zero are no where to be found. What the hell is going on?
What set this off, Ichabod?
I went to get some things out of my office... the rDw building is defunct. There is nothing there. The closets are even cleaned out. No lockers, no gyms, just empty rooms, like these spots in my head. There are so many questions unanswered all of a sudden, and I'm not even sure what those questions are half the time. I keep blacking out and waking up in strange places. If someone... or something is doing this to me, there will be so much hell to pay.
Steve takes a deep breath, hoping he still knows how to talk to the old Ichabod. He sits on the edge of the bed. He thinks for a moment, knowing that trying to explain the situation will only make it worse. He chooses his words carefully.
Well, you may get the chance to take some of that anger out on someone. I hear there is a man called Triple X who has challenged you in another fed... WOW.
Ichabod perks up for the moment, the prospect of a challenge ahead.
WOW, huh? Well, you know me, I'll be there. Maybe I can get some answers to all of this. Steve... where is Selena?
Trust me, Ichabod. You'll know soon enough. I don't know how much I can say, but I have a feeling that before long you are going to see Zero and Selena.
How do you know that?
Have I ever steered you wrong, Ichy?
Ichabod smiles as he shakes his head no. Steve squeezes his friend's shoulder as he stands up to leave.
Steve?
Yes, Ichy?
Kill the light...
Steve flips the switch leaving Ichabod in almost complete darkness again. The darkness is only full when he presses the cigarette butt to a dish on his dresser. He sits for almost twenty minutes in utter darkness and silence before his disembodied words finally come through the shadows.
Triple X... I don't know who you are, or what your game is. I don't really care. But I can tell you this, you picked the wrong time and the wrong redneck to monkey around with. WOW will get a big surprise when a stranger from a little indy fed comes out of the invisible small time circuits to beat the living hell out of what I can only presume to be one of their heroes. When I'm done with you, your prez will have no choice but to sign me a contract on the spot. With my current fed dead and rotten, I'll need a new home, a new playground to bully anyway. You chose me, so you must know some about me. I hope for your sake that its enough to survive.
The darkness takes over when Ichabod stops talking, its own sounds filling the audio. Crickets and waves outside providing rythmn and percussion. The humming of machinery in the facility droning out a peaceful background that is, at the same time, almost eerie. And a ticking clock, Ichabod's own, ticking away the seconds to what he hopes is the time of answers.
Steve gets to his office door just as Ichabod is extinguishing his Newport upstairs. Before he sticks the key in, he lets out a large, sorrowful sigh. He has always had the answers for Ichabod, but now, he is as hopeless as one of Ichabod's opponents. He'd gone over the medical reports for days, checked Ichabod's past, even made a few phone calls that weren't exactly legit. Something... a lot of somethings... were not fitting right. Steve felt like he had the square peg and was trying to shove it into the circle hole. He never knew the answer would be sitting on his desk when he opened the door. A polished, clear, very large jar. The kind used for containing medical items, or biological specimens. The entire story suddenly falls into place for him. He rushes for the phone--and decides to just let Ichabod sleep on it for now. He'd call him tomorrow, no need to rip what was left of his nerves to shreds and cost him sleep.
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