In the parking lot of the Java Jive sits an inconspicuous four door red Ford LTD. The man walking away from it stares in through the sticker-covered picture windows out front. He sees who he is looking for and sits on one of the steel woven chairs. He stairs inside, thankful that it is a slow night and no one is under the canopy smoking. He doesn't need to be recognized, or the word would go out and through the store letting the guy know he was there. "Ichabod" leans back on the chair and stares at Steve Parke on the inside drinking coffee. He speaks quickly on a cell phone to someone, and "Ichabod" waits.
Steve speaks quickly. He doesn't like staying in one place for too long, because he has no idea when "Ichabod" is going to show up. And knowing what Steve knows, "Ichabod" will be looking to take him out.
Yeah, I got you cleared, made some phone calls. Hopefully in less than two weeks they'll have you there... Yeah I know, its odd, but we got to look at the big picture. Its time for this other shit to be in the past anyway, there are bigger goals you two need each other for. Trust me on that one... Ok see you soon man.
Steve gets up and puts his cell in his pocket finishes off his coffee and sets the mug on the counter, then steps into the bathroom.
"Ichabod" watches Steve go into the bathroom and gets up to go inside. He walks past the sitting areas, past the counter and into the mini-auditorium in the back. He stands at the glass door and watches out toward the hallway and the main lobby. Before long, a man with long hair comes down the hall way and looks at "Ichabod" expectantly. "Ichabod" opens the door.
Can I help you?
I'm the owner. Listen you can't hang out back here, there are no events tonight, and if you aren't going to buy anything, you are going to have to leave.
Is that a fact?
Yeah, it is, tough guy.
"Ichabod's" hand shoots out at lightning speed and grabs the man by the collar. He drags him into the dark auditorium and the glass door slams shut.
Steve comes out of the bathroom and walks out the front door looking around himself nervously. The presence he had felt the night his facility burned down was back. As the door closes, the glass door of the auditorium opens and "Ichabod" steps out. A pooling stream of blood collects around the base of the glass door. "Ichabod" steps out the door as Steve is pulling away in the rental Ford LTD. Steve turns left and heads toward the light. "Ichabod" walks up the sidewalk staring at the car. He stalks Steve with a smile on his face as his intent stare seems to bore a hole in the body of the car.
Steve suddenly feels very sick, and he's not sure why. As he goes to make a right turn, the steering wheel suddenly locks up and he can't complete the turn. He pumps his brakes, but they don't seem to be working either. Steve's LTD cuts across the intersection at a 135 degree angle heading right for a black corvette waiting to cross to Steve's left. Steve looks away from the impending impact. Just as he looks into his rear view mirror, he sees "Ichabod" standing on the sidewalk grinning.
As the LTD's first wheel hits the median, the car tilts dangerously to the right. It hits the low front end of the Corvette and flips up on its right side, sliding across the car from the front left to the right end, taking the roof of the Corvette with it. Sparks shower the Corvette's driver and the ground. The impact sends Steve through the windshield and across the road up onto the sidewalk like a ragdoll. He comes to rest staring toward where he saw "Ichabod". All he can see now is a sheet of red.
"Ichabod" sits at the table with a cold coffee in front of him. He doesn't drink it at all, but simply ordered it for effect. He waits until the flashing lights have died down before turning to the employee who decided to let him stay there after closing due to the circumstances. A heavy thunderstorm has begun to take over the night.
An officer comes from out of the auditorium.
Sir? Is there anything you'd like to add to your account of the events?
No... thank you.
Luckily you were outside and noticed the accident when the owner was killed. You may have been in danger. I'm sorry you had to witness all this tonight. Just try to go home and get some sleep ok?
Thank you officer.
The officer walks out the back door. The employee comes over and looks down at "Ichabod" while drying his hands on a towel.
Hey man, I'm almost finished here. I just gotta take a dump and then I got to lock up. I'm sorry.
"Ichabod" nods and stares into the coffee. The employee goes into the bathroom and locks the door. "Ichabod" quickly pours the coffee into a fern and sets the empty cup on the table before him.
Kris Starr. Another man who should be getting his come uppance in this world but instead stays near the bottom of the cards, not getting the recognition he deserves. Kris, I'm sorry for the hand that fate deals you. I'll never understand why people like us are kept where we are. We can be just as good as any of the heavyweights in any federation, yet the powers in charge deem it necessary to keep us in check, never opening the doors that should be swinging open for us. I was the same as you before what happened to me. Ichabod's own destroyed every chance I had to exist normally, but I can easily assume it wouldn't have mattered. I would still be filling space in the schedule of the show had he left me alone. And not because I'm not good enough, just because I'm not as large as Smoke Dawg, or Wafer, or Reverend, or Ichabod. Well now I've filled out the space that seems to be the requirement to be somebody, and I intend to use it. But I'll not only use it to rise to the top of WOW. I'm going to make it my personal mission to use my status to raise people like you with me, to get the lesser names in the spotlight, to make sure that Main Events are the main part of everyone's life. There will be justice and fairness where I am concerned. I tried to do this with Forsaken, but Ichabod made that impossibly by letting the Elite devour them whole. Well, Kris, I'm not asking for alliance, because its obvious that alliance with this figure brings the forces of the suits down upon you. All I'm saying is lets go into this with respect and show the crowd, the suits, and the world that people like us deserve to be up top, that we can go the distance and give the fans what they want. We make the money too, dammit, so we deserve the recognition.
Here is what I offer. I'm really a nobody, its Ichabod that carries the weight. Put your European title on the line.
I know this sounds like I am only trying to gain, but look at it from my point of view. There are two scenarios. The first is that I win. You move on. For now you are the European champion, which basically means you are stuck with that low-ass title. Until you don't have it anymore, you can't go on to bigger titles. I know how wrestling executives are. You put on a good show and still lose the title, you move up. The second scenario is that you win. Successful title defense against Ichabod. That's a hell of a thing to have on your record, trust me.
Its a win-win situation, Kris. Think about it. Let me know.
The employee comes out of the bathroom.
Alright man, I got to lock up now. I'm really sorry but I got to ask you to head out.
Its ok. I think I am going to head home.
Its a bad night out there in the rain, where do you live?
Duncan...
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