Knight Errant *HF*
By Gomurr
Michael Breslin swung his weary leg over his Harley Roadster and dismounted. He was going home, and he had just about begun to believe the old adage "you can never go home again", but he was almost there.....only one more days ride and he would be among friends once more. Almost a full 24 hours of road dust coated his black leather duster, and he could feel the grime of the drive in his skin. He looked toward the structure in front of him. The sign read HOG'S BREATH INN, and the vacancy light buzzed with a flashing neon annoyance. He ambled toward the run down motel removing his helmet as he went. He grimaced and swallowed hard. The dust of the road had not only coated his duster, but his face and throat as well. All he wanted was a nice long bath, and a bed to fall into.
The clang of the cheap chimes on the door jangled as he entered. An old man snoozed behind the counter and Michael Breslin, formerly known as Havok the Black Knight, rang the counter bell. The rag-tag desk clerk snorted and awoke with a start. He raised his yellowed and bloodshot eyes to Havok, and looked through greasy grey hair that hung down in his face, but didn't rise.
"Can I get a room or what?" said Breslin finally.
The old man said nothing simply pointed to a sign behind him that had three simple lines scrawled in black magic marker.
Rooms by time = $10/hr
Rooms by day = $30
Adult Movies Available
Breslin grimaced. Did he really want to stay here? He thought about turning and leaving, but his muscles ached all over, and his body practically begged for a shower. Besides...he had stayed in much worse places than this......of course that had usually been in an alcoholic haze after fighting one pointless battle or another. Those days were gone now though. He had been clean and sober since that fateful day he had left the BHC....and now he was going back. Could that place be home again, without the old temptations coming back?
"I'll take one for the night," Breslin finally said.
The old man heaved himself from the chair with a grunt. The smell of cheap whiskey and body odor mingled in a halo around him.
"No rooms available at present," he said in a thick long island accent. "Give it about 30 minutes and I'm sure someone will finish up. There's a bar and grill around the corner by the name of "Joe's". You can wait there."
And with that the old man simply returned to his battered chair, flopped back down and closed his eyes.
Havok felt himself biting his lip. He was overly tired and his nerves were worn to a frazzle. The last thing he needed was to go anywhere near a bar. He could feel himself loosing control, and he looked down and saw that his hands had begun to morph into claws. What was he going to do?.....kill an old bum because he told him to wait. He willed himself to relax, then wheeled around and left.
"Thank you," he called in a rather strained voice as he left.
The old man grunted in reply.
Havok walked slowly around the corner of the cheap motel, and saw the aforementioned "Joe's". It was almost impossible, but this establishment looked even more filthy and run-down than the "Hog's Breath". Havok's stomach growled and that decided it for him. He would go in, grab a bite, then leave and get a room that had hopefully been cleaned after an hourly visit.
He walked steadily on and pushed the creaking door open. The smell of beer and sweat was heavy inside. He sat down at a booth and put his head in his hands. What was he doing here? He had over $4,000 in cash on him, yet he had stopped in the middle of this hell-hole town rather than ride on to a larger place. Was it just because he was so exhausted, or was it that he subconsciously thought this was his rightful element? His wonderings were interrupted by a ridiculously busty and obviously fake blonde waitress with lips the color of Bozo the Clown's. Her western cut top was unbuttoned completely and tied under her huge breasts. Her thin waist would have been quite lovely had it not been for the huge black tattoo on it. Havok looked closer and it was of a spitting cobra. How feminine Havok thought to himself sarcastically.
"What'll it be?" she practically yelled. "I ain't got all day....Beer?"
"No," said Havok trying not to notice how dirty her fingernails were underneath their cheap peeling polish. "I'll have a burger and fries...and bottled water if you've got it."
The last was added as an afterthought. He was taking a chance on the safety of the food as is, he didn't even want to see how dirty the glasses were.
"BURGER, FRIES, AND SOME WATER HERE!" she yelled back at the kitchen, then turned to Havok and said in a softer voice. "We ain't got no bottled water, but I'll get you a nice glass of ice water. Nothing like it to replenish a man's thirst."
Havok could hear the seductive lisp in the voice of the waitress, but chose to pay it no attention. Once again he thought to himself, it wouldn't be the worst thing I've done, but I'm not that person anymore. He handed the waitress some cash and sat back to wait for his food.
Just then, three men that were obviously bikers walked in and sat down at the bar. Their bodies were covered with tattoos and the smell of oil and sweat stuck to them labeling their mode of transportation. The largest of the three had to weigh three hundred pounds and was around 6'5". He looked over to Havok, and began to speak.
"That your Harley Scoot out there?" he asked. "She's a beauty."
"Thanks," Havok said, "She's a smooth enough ride for me."
The three turned back to the bar and ordered beers for themselves. Havok closed his eyes and let his mind wander back over the past several months.
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His decision to leave the BHC was one of the hardest yet best decisions of his life. He knew know that he had been living a cycle of violence and self loathing and that Gregor's use of him as primary enforcer only fed fuel to that cycle's fire, but now Gregor was gone, and he had heard Silver's reign had been much different.
After leaving the BHC, he drifted around a bit......Hawaii......the Bahamas....Jamaica. Money had been no object, and neither had company with his blonde good looks. He had been unable to resist alcohol's call however, and had seemed to get more drunk with each port of call, until one fateful night upon his return to the United States.
He had been driving his Harley flat out through the bad streets of Chicago, after leaving an after hours bar. His vision had been blurry anyway due to the alcohol, and the added bruised cut over his left eye from a bar fight helped even less. By the time he saw the young woman crossing his path coming out of an alleyway it had been too late. He swerved to miss her, and then the world had faded to black.
He had awakened in a tiny two room apt to a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He tried to move, but he was wracked with pain. His accident had broken four ribs as well as fracturing his collarbone. The woman looking over him was completely unfamiliar. Why wasn't he in a hospital?
"My name's Sally," the woman had said. "I saw you have your accident. I thought you were gonna run me down for sure, but at the last minute you managed to miss me."
"Sally," Havok asked. "Where am I....why am I not in a hospital."
"Hospitals ask a lot of questions mister," she said, "and they cost a lot off money. They set your ribs and collar bone, and then started asking who you were and how I knew you. I'm gonna be honest with you now. I was coming home from a "date" and I really didn't want to have the police involved in the whole affair. So I told them you were my brother and that you had wiped out racing with my husband. They discharged us as soon as they found out how little money we had....and now we're here..at my place."
Havok understood completely what kind of "date" Sally had been returning from, but never once thought to question her about it. Instead he began to speak.
"Money," Havok said. "My wallet's full of credit cards. You shouldn't have had to worry about that."
"I didn't find any wallet. I found $600 in the pocket of your jacket and that's what I paid the hospital with."
Havok knew that Sally could be lying, but somewhere deep inside he knew she hadn't been. This woman had almost been killed by his recklessness, and yet she nursed him back to health and now he was in her house, and in what was probably her bed. He looked around the tiny apartment. It was spotlessly clean, but painfully poor. Then his eyes caught sight of a small child around the age of 6 peeping around an ancient looking couch. Her arm was in a cast.
"That's Tracy," Sally said. "My daughter. She's been taking care of you, when I've had to go out. She's lucky you see. It was her that saw you coming toward me and probably her that kept you from hitting us."
"How long has it been since the ummm.....accident," Havok asked cursing himself. So he had injured the child as well.
"5 days," said Sally, "but you're ok now. We've seen to that. Sally's been taking good care of you."
Finally, Havok had to ask.
"Sally?" he said. "Did I do that to Tracy....in the accident?"
Sally nodded.
"Why didn't you call the police," he asked. "They wouldn't have known about your ummmm 'date'".
"I could tell you were really messed up mister," she said simply. "You practically reeked of whisky, and you are talking to someone who knows just how appealing having 100 proof armor can be. So we used what money we found on you to patch Tracy and you up, and now we're here."
"I owe you then," Havok tried to speak. "If you have a phone I can more than repay you for your kindness."
"I only want one thing in return, mister." Sally said. "Go somewhere with me tomorrow."
Havok looked at her strangely and immediately agreed. "Where?" he asked.
"You'll see," said Sally. "But now you need to sleep."
When he awoke again, he saw Tracy sitting across the room staring at him.
"He's awake," she said in a voice that sounded like a beautiful song.
"It's about time," said Sally as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I thought you were gonna sleep all day."
Sally helped Havok to dress and slowly painfully they left her apartment and went three blocks to a community center. Havok stared curiously at the child-made bulletin boards and classroom posters. When Sally led him into one of the rooms he sat without question. He implicitly trusted this woman for reasons unknown. A tall thin man entered and stood before the group that had mingled in from outside.
"Are we ready to begin?" he asked as he surveyed the group. When all was silent he started. He looked intensely into the eyes of each individual in the room and said.
"Hello, my name is Jim........and I'm an alcoholic."
Each member of the room followed suit, and Havok almost laughed. When Sally stood up and said the line, he looked into her eyes and was about to hobble his way out, but he caught a look of such empathy and understanding there, that for a reason he still couldn't describe he stood and finally said.
"Hello, my name is Michael.....and I'm an alcoholic."
He stayed with Sally for two more months using money that he had wired to him to keep them in the little apartment so that Sally wouldn't have to go on any more 'dates'. They continued to go to the meetings everyday and bit by bit it became easier not to think about the sweet taste of whiskey. Finally, one day, when his ribs were finally healed and he could move around freely again, he told Sally something that he thought would make her happier than she had ever been.
"Sally," he said. "You know I've been getting money from my company to pay your bills all this time, but I want you to know. I'm rich. I've got more than enough money to buy this apartment...this building...this block if I wanted to. I want to take you and Tracy out of this place."
Sally smiled at him and simply said. "I know". Then she handed him his wallet. He looked into it and saw that nothing had been taken or tampered with.
"I thought you said you couldn't find my wallet," he fumbled.
"I lied," Sally said simply. "You needed the kind of help that money couldn't buy. I'll understand if you are angry."
Havok looked deep into her eyes, and once again, he said something that he still can't find the reason for. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Michael," she said. "Keep going to the meetings and you'll be fine."
Havok embraced Sally and a single tear rolled down his cheek. The next day he made his preparations to leave. As he departed, he told Sally there was some place he wanted to take Tracy and her before he left. They walked down the street and caught a cab, and took it all the way to the far side of town in the financial district. They entered a large building and Havok spoke to the receptionist quietly. In moments they were whisked upstairs to the penthouse.
"Sally," Havok said. "This is my friend Tony....Tony Jonston. He owns this building and this company. It's called Terracom, and he's agreed to give you a job."
Sally looked strangely at Havok and spoke. "Doing what?" she asked.
"Well you'll need training, but this company is always looking for people with ambition and Michael said you were always striving to better yourself." Mr. Jonston said.
"Yes, sir," said Sally with tears in her eyes.
"Good then," Mr. Jonston finished. "We'll start you in the mail room. You'll need a place to stay closer to the office so we've set you up in an apartment in the building next door. Mr. Breslin has purchased the space, so when and if you decide to move, you can rent it out. Tracy can stay in the daycare Terracom provides while you work, and there are night classes our company sponsors for employees, so that they can move up. Can you start next week?"
"Yes, sir," Sally said once again.
On the elevator ride down, Sally slipped her hand into Havok's.
"Thank you," she whispered in a choked voice.
"No, thank you," Havok said back "This is nothing compared to what you did for me. I'll owe you for the rest of my life."
And that was the last words they spoke. Havok hugged Tracy and told her to stay lucky, and then was gone......on his way back home.
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"Hey buddy," said the biker rowdily as he nudged into the booth and against Havok, "Have a beer with a brother in arms. We Hog Riders gotta stick together."
The other two bikers slid in across from them and put the beers on the table.
"No thanks, bro," said Havok as he looked at the largest biker.
"What?....think you're too good to have a beer with the common people cuz of your fancy bike," slurred the big man drunkenly.
"No," said Havok slowly feeling his body tense with adrenaline. "I don't drink."
"He doesn't drink," one of the smaller of the three said. "HAHAHAHAHHAHA.....that's why he tried to order that pussy bottled water."
"Well, he's gonna learn," roared the largest biker as he smashed his beer bottle on the table making a jagged bottle knife and holding it to Havok.
Havok reacted instantly. His fist caught the big man off guard and he pushed him out of the booth. He rammed the table across the way into the other two and was free of the confined space. As he spun, another bottle hit him across the head and he blinked away blood from his eye. He felt his hands begin to morph again. All three bikers rushed him at once. He could easily have sliced them to ribbons, but instead fired a low level plasma blast from his hands that knocked them back against the far wall. They were up again and rushing him until they got a better look. There standing where the "pretty boy from the city" had stood was a berserker warrior with claws for hands that smoked and smoldered. They froze in place.
"What ya gonna do freak," one of them screamed more out of desperation than actual bravery.
Havok tensed his hands. He had the power to slaughter these men. He had the power to level this entire bar. He lifted his hand toward the counter.........picked up the sack that the waitress had set there containing his food, and turned and walked out.
"I'm going to eat some hamburger to go, and then continue on my way home," he said as he left.
The patrons of the bar were too scared to move until they heard him get on his Harley and leave. They slowly began to stir and watched as he drove out of sight.
Havok sat atop his bike and powered it down even harder driving quicker toward the BHC mansion.
"I'm going home," he thought. "Thanks again, Sally."
Mystikal
Grey Pawn
Official XMBB Scribe
"I hate redundacy and reptition"
"I try to hide my intellectual inadequencies with a bad attitude and big words like intellectual inadequencies."
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