Post by MERCENARY on Jan 26, 2019 8:59:01 GMT -6
Ashes... Ashes...
A Mercenary Story
Featuring:
The Mercenary Mike Mercer
Leather Cordowan
And Introducing:
Dalilah Ashe
FSW Uprising. Season Finale. Episode 11. November 28th, 2018
Gordon: The following is our main event of the evening!
Jackson: Welcome back FSW faithful, and as you just heard from Stan Gordon, we are all set for our main event. Six FSW superstars will step foot into the ring in order to determine the number one contender for the Television Championship.
The Mercenary barely got out of the gate in this one. It's like he was not even a fragment of what he has shown here on Uprising. Being the biggest competitor in the match, the entire group of four other superstars (minus Maurice Yensman, of course) ganged up on the Mercenary for a few minutes to wear the big man down. It wasn't until Faith Rivers hit Faithful on him and covered him to eliminate him from the match.
Gordon: The Mercenary has been eliminated!
* * *
He limped up the ramp and through the curtain, clutching at his mid-section and the two cracked ribs that stabbed like daggers with every step he took. His Halloween night fights had taken their toll on him. He had hoped he would heal in time for his match with Stitches, but the clown had gotten the better of him, further aggravating his injuries. By the time he reached The Cow Palace for his first FSW main event appearance he had known his chances to take his shot at the TV title were slipping away. Every movement was agony, and the gang stomping he took in the early minutes of the match was enough to knock him flat for the three count without putting up any real resistance. He was laying on a table in the trainer’s room when Sarah Roberts won the match. He reclined without comfort in the back of the Uber that took him home and for the next week he was prone and restless in the silence of his bunk, ignoring anyone who came around to express their concern. As the weeks wore on he started to feel more like himself in his body, but his mind was still stuck in a dark and dangerous mood. He had thrown away his first big chance at success in the FSW. He’d thrown away a potential chance at gold. He hadn’t been able to help himself, going out to play vigilante with the local hooligans and getting himself busted up before an important re-match with a dangerous opponent like Stitches. It had been a stupid thing to do. It had been foolish, but he had never been one to resist the urge for some pointless heroics no matter what it meant in the grand scheme. He spent the holiday break in a funk, not a man in a celebratory frame of mind. He was thinking hard about his future, or perhaps his lack of one, in the wrestling business. He was finally lured from his solitude, coaxed into the club for the New Years Eve party featuring one of his favorite bands: One Eyed Doll.
The main room was wall to wall people, which made it somewhat difficult for him to find a quiet corner to drink in. From his booth in the back he watched the band turn the stage into a showcase of the strange- Kimberly Freeman’s Heavy Metal Muppet Show. But the music lightened his spirits. He’d been a fan for some time, and always enjoyed seeing them play live. Sipping his Southern Comfort he scanned the floor, watching the revelry become more and more debauched as the hours crawled closer to midnight and the new year. Down front and center of the stage he recognized the grind and swirl of Leather Cordowan as she owned the floor around her.
He smiled, admiring her careless sense of self and wishing he could figure out how to feel just little bit of the freedom from constraint with which she lived every moment of her life. His admiration was interrupted however by the sight of the dance partner that she drew into her embrace for a quick and flirtatious kiss. Her dark hair hung loose about her shoulders. As she shook her head wildly to the music the ink black tresses writhed and struck like mad Medusa’s serpentine locks. Her parchment pale skin shone in the strobe from the stage lights, her eyes flashing and flickering like a living flame. She looked like a ghost - the wispy specter of a gothic beauty come straight from a painting inspired by the poet’s pen of Poe. He sat up in his seat, unable to look away as she turned her slender body to grind against Leather who took her by the waist, kissing and nibbling at her neck and shoulder like a voracious vampire on a blood binge.
And the music played on as the bacchanalia reached a fevered pitch and the countdown to the New Year began and ended with balloons and a brand new beginning. By then Leather and her magnificent mystery were latched at the lips, kissing like each feared the other might turn into a pumpkin at that final stroke and they might lose the chance to consume one another like the world itself depended on their desire. As the couples in the crowd fell into each other for a slow dance the pair made their way to the periphery, headed towards the private back stairs which led up to the fourth floor where Leather’s bed waited in her private quarters to be the scene of a much more intimate sort of dance. Mercenary watched them go, sighing deeply and a bit sadly, feeling slightly jealous. Leather disappeared into the darkness beyond the door, but her partner paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder and directly his way. Her eyes found his and the look sent a shock through his system. She smiled a bewitching and slightly wicked smile, holding him in her gaze for a lengthy moment that left him feeling a little bit like an animal trapped in the blue-white glare of headlights in the night.
And then the look was abruptly broken and she was gone, pulled through the door by Leather’s eager hand, leaving Merc sitting in silence with the memory of those eyes and that smile long after the club had closed and the crowd had gone out into the January night.
* * *
He sat alone in the quiet of the third floor V.I.P. lounge. A few guests lingered in the corners of the room, sipping champagne and speaking in quiet romantic whispers. Mike had liberated a bottle of top shelf whiskey from behind the bar and was seated next to a window where he stared down at the street but saw nothing but the shadow of a smile and a pair of burning eyes that burrowed into him leaving an ache in both his heart and his guts. His head was pleasantly numb… maybe a little too numb at this point in the early hours just before the blue-black pre-dawn light would herald the coming of the sun. He was starting to think seriously about some sleep. But he was a little worried what his dreams might bring. He took a final draw on the dregs of his bottle and started to prepare himself for the climb down the back stairs to the courtyard where his bed awaited in his rolling home parked in its regular spot. He rubbed his eyes and stretched to regain some feeling in his legs and was about to get up when he noticed a slim shadow watching him from across the room. For a minute he thought she was a drunken illusion- a cruel trick of his intoxicated brain. But as he watched she crossed the room, becoming more and more real the closer she came. She was dressed in a pair of tight black leggings and a black silk robe that he recognized as a gift he’d given Leather for her birthday two years ago. She floated across the floor, coming to rest on the cushioned love seat across from where he sat still staring at her. Again holding his gaze she reached over and took the liquor from his hand, draining the remaining spirits without bothering to wipe the bottle clean of his saliva. She licked the taste of it from her lips and sat back into the deep comfort of the cushions. When she spoke it broke the silence with a start.
Dalilah: “I know You. I know YOU. I do. I DO. You’re The Mercenary. Mercenary. The man. The myth. Mister Old-School Outlaw his-self. You know I’m a big fan of yours. I even had your poster on the wall above my bed. I used to look at you every night before I fell asleep.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice, purring her next words softly in his ear.
Dalilah: “Don’t tell anybody. I’m a little embarrassed to tell you… but… I had a little girly crush on you back when I was young.”
He chuckled despite himself, not able to hold it back.
Merc: “When you were young. What exactly are you now? How long ago was this, about six months? How old are you anyway? I feel like I should ask to see your I.D.”
Dalilah: “Well I’d have to go back upstairs to get it. I left it in my jeans and they're in Leather’s room, and I don’t want to wake her up. When I came down she was smiling and sleeping like a baby kitten.”
Merc shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For once in his life he couldn’t think of anything to say. He stared off into the room in an awkward silence. She seemed to find that very funny and she giggled at him.
Dalilah: “Oh don’t be so serious. I’m old enough to know better, and I’m old enough to know what I want. And I came here tonight with one goal in mind.” She put her hand on his arm. His body stiffened slightly at her touch. She smiled mischievously at the reaction. “I came here because I wanted to meet someone… I wanted to meet you.”
Mercenary looked at her with a serious expression. Up close he saw her clearly for the first time. She was more beautiful than his mind had imagined her to be. He could feel her energy irradiating him like the blast from a dirty bomb. He could feel his heart trying to break the cage of his sternum. His head buzzed now from more than the booze and the coil of his intestines twisted like a ball of mating vipers. He pulled away from her, stumbling slightly as he tried to stand up, a rush of blood to the brain making his head spin.
Merc: “Yeah… um… I think I should go lie down. Really nice to meet ya though. But I think I’m gonna go now…”
She stood up quick and pulled him to her to steady him. They stood close to each other for a very long pause. She stared up at him with a strange intensity that caused him to look away again. Then without warning she pushed up on her toes to kiss him. He turned away from the attempt, overwhelmed with a strong feeling of guilt.
Merc: “Look… I don’t think…” He gently pushed her away from him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re really pretty but… I mean… You’re with Leather… I can’t do that to her… it’s not good… it’s just not right.”
Her smile this time was almost maternal, which seemed strange in one so young. She gently took his hand and stroked his arm, moving closer to him, but not as close as before.
Dalilah: “You’re such a good guy aren’t you? So sweet. But I’m not with Anyone. I like Leather. She’s a sexy chick and we had a good night together. But she’s not why I came here tonight. I told ya, I came here looking for You, and here you are. I know what I want Michael. I know it… and I take it. Life’s way too damn short to live any other way.”
She broke contact with him and walked backwards towards the door.
Dalilah: “Think about that daddy. Take a chance. You don’t always have to be the good guy. Sometimes… you have to do what’s best for You. Nighty-night… Mister Mercenary.” With a flourish she turned to leave, but she turned one more time to smile at him (and this time there was nothing in the look but naked seduction.)
“And if you were wondering, my name’s Dalilah… Dalilah Ashe.”
