Post by convict on Feb 16, 2007 12:16:34 GMT -5
Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan has been standing inside this butchers factory for almost and hour. His camera is all set up, his coat tied tight around him to keep him warm in the cold warehouse. A pile a cigarette butts lies at his feet. His face showing annoyance and confusion as to why he was called here of all places for another Johnny Mental photo shot. The smell of death hangs in the air from the dead sides of beef hanging in a cold locker not more then ten feet away.
The Lens: Christ, he sure is taking his time with this one.
Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan pulls another rollup from his pocket and lights it up, he inhales it deeply on his first puff, and lets the thick grey smoke escape from his nostrils. He closes his eyes tightly wondering just how long Johnny plans on keeping him waiting. Finally Eddie lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. The sight in front of him makes his flesh go even paler then normal; the blood in his veins goes even colder. His throat begins to dry up. And for some reason his trouser feel wet and warm, his hand holding his cigarette begins to slightly shake and he doesn’t even realize it. His eyes stare straight ahead as if he was caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic.
Staring right back at Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan is none other then “the Beast” Convict. His ice blue killer eyes pierce into Eddie’s as if he is reading the mans soul. Eddie feels the chills run up his spine. The monster across from him doesn’t flinch doesn’t blink. The silence in the room slowly stops as Eddie breaks contact and looks down at Convict’s right hand, it’s red, a deep dark red, and its wet and dripping into a puddle. Eddie tries to form some words but his fear grips him.
The Lens: Think that what it is mate?
The Beast slowly brings his hand up, looking at the blood upon it. And then begins to laugh as a wicked devil like grin forms upon his face.
Convict: Don’t worry Ed…its only blood from a dead cow…I was going a few rounds with a side of cattle…and lost track of the time…for our interview.
Eddie snaps out of the slight daze he was in as he begins to realize his assignment was an interview, he naturally thought it was with Johnny Mental. But then his boss never did say the name he was interviewing.
The Lens: Can you prove that?
Convict stops laughing for a second and his face goes back into a blank stare. He turns around and motions for Eddie to follow him. Convict stops at the meat locker and opens it up. Eddie being cautious only peers inside and sees the sides of cattle hanging upon meat hooks. He turns around after looking at them from a distance when he is satisfied with Convict’s answer.
The Lens: Right, let’s get back to work shall we mate?
Convict: You have something for me Ed? You were supposed to give me something?
Eddie pauses for a moment, trying to think back, and realizes the restraint order in his coat pocket; he slowly pulls it out as he feels a lump in his throat begin to rise up. His hand shakes as he hands it to Convict standing in front of him. The Beast just reaches out and slowly opens the letter.
The Lens: How did you know about that?
Convict stops looking at it for a fraction of a second and grins.
Convict: Ed…I know more things then your feeble mind will ever comprehend…this was…expected. It’s defiantly not the first time I have been given a restraining order…and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
*******
Convict: Johnny Boy…how are you. Impressive following you have…a legion of followers…but John…I’m the one man who is willing to go threw each and every one of them just to get to you. If I have to kill every last one to reach you…I will…if I have to fight all of them…I will…it makes no fuckin difference to me John.
Convict pulls a camel non filtered cigarette and lights it up, he lets the grayish smoke flow towards the camera lens.
Convict: John…you got something wrong my friend…I take great pleasure in what I do. I think of my self as an artist John…the ring is my canvas…your blood will be my paint John…and I will create a masterpiece of death and destruction…my very own Mona Lisa or Starry Night. You should feel honored John…Honored that I am saving this for you.
Convict Just smiles his evil grin at the camera.
Convict: You were right John…I don’t feel pity or remorse for the slaughter of people. I don’t care what I do to them…there cattle for the slaughter John…pity is for fools…remorse for the weak. It can’t help you to feel sorry for them…Men like us John…we’re Gods to them…well you were…your pity, your remorse makes you weak…like all of them. My lack of it…makes me strong. I am Darwinism at its finest John…survival of the fittest…the weak shall not inherit the Earth John…It will be the strong.
Convict begins to frown almost as if he is sad.
Convict: I wonder John…where did you go wrong…did you fly to close to the sun on wings made of wax? Were you unable to handle the burdens of being what you truly are? Don’t try to bullshit me John…don’t try to tell me you have changed…a leopard cant change its spots John…a tiger cant get rid of his stripes…And monsters like you and I…don’t suddenly feel remorse or any of that other bullshit you mentioned…you did that to the girl because she was weak…unworthy…its what makes men like you and I Gods John…men that will be talked about till the end of time itself.
Convict smiles again as he motions towards the camera for someone to walk out. Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan slowly creeps into the camera shot. Convict motions for him to face the camera, and then places an arm over his shoulder.
Convict: Quiet Ed, just look at the camera…John, I want to show you how easy it is…how simple it can be done.
Convict’s other hand reaches into his black leather overcoat and pulls out a shank. The metal glistens and shines in the low lighted warehouse. And in a simple quick motion like watching lightning strike, Convict thrusts it into Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan’s stomach area. Eddie’s screams fill the warehouse. Convict lets him go and Eddie falls to the cold hard floor. His hands gripping his stomach applying pressure to the wound. Convict puts the shank back into his pocket, and slowly bends down.
Convict: Don’t worry Ed, nothing major was cut…not an artery or even your stomach…I’m like a fuckin surgeon with a scalpel…a couple of stitches you’ll be fine.
Convict looks at the camera.
Convict: I could have killed him John…I could end his life if I chose…I sparred him…why? Because John…Because I want you to see what it is like to see a friend hurt…I want you to feel that rush of anger…John…I want to save you…give you back the power you so desperately are missing in your life…John…you will get it back…you will be whole again…even if I have to kill you.
Convict stands up, and peers down upon Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan still screaming in agony. Convict slowly walks away into the shadows.
The Lens: Christ, he sure is taking his time with this one.
Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan pulls another rollup from his pocket and lights it up, he inhales it deeply on his first puff, and lets the thick grey smoke escape from his nostrils. He closes his eyes tightly wondering just how long Johnny plans on keeping him waiting. Finally Eddie lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. The sight in front of him makes his flesh go even paler then normal; the blood in his veins goes even colder. His throat begins to dry up. And for some reason his trouser feel wet and warm, his hand holding his cigarette begins to slightly shake and he doesn’t even realize it. His eyes stare straight ahead as if he was caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic.
Staring right back at Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan is none other then “the Beast” Convict. His ice blue killer eyes pierce into Eddie’s as if he is reading the mans soul. Eddie feels the chills run up his spine. The monster across from him doesn’t flinch doesn’t blink. The silence in the room slowly stops as Eddie breaks contact and looks down at Convict’s right hand, it’s red, a deep dark red, and its wet and dripping into a puddle. Eddie tries to form some words but his fear grips him.
The Lens: Think that what it is mate?
The Beast slowly brings his hand up, looking at the blood upon it. And then begins to laugh as a wicked devil like grin forms upon his face.
Convict: Don’t worry Ed…its only blood from a dead cow…I was going a few rounds with a side of cattle…and lost track of the time…for our interview.
Eddie snaps out of the slight daze he was in as he begins to realize his assignment was an interview, he naturally thought it was with Johnny Mental. But then his boss never did say the name he was interviewing.
The Lens: Can you prove that?
Convict stops laughing for a second and his face goes back into a blank stare. He turns around and motions for Eddie to follow him. Convict stops at the meat locker and opens it up. Eddie being cautious only peers inside and sees the sides of cattle hanging upon meat hooks. He turns around after looking at them from a distance when he is satisfied with Convict’s answer.
The Lens: Right, let’s get back to work shall we mate?
Convict: You have something for me Ed? You were supposed to give me something?
Eddie pauses for a moment, trying to think back, and realizes the restraint order in his coat pocket; he slowly pulls it out as he feels a lump in his throat begin to rise up. His hand shakes as he hands it to Convict standing in front of him. The Beast just reaches out and slowly opens the letter.
The Lens: How did you know about that?
Convict stops looking at it for a fraction of a second and grins.
Convict: Ed…I know more things then your feeble mind will ever comprehend…this was…expected. It’s defiantly not the first time I have been given a restraining order…and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
*******
Convict: Johnny Boy…how are you. Impressive following you have…a legion of followers…but John…I’m the one man who is willing to go threw each and every one of them just to get to you. If I have to kill every last one to reach you…I will…if I have to fight all of them…I will…it makes no fuckin difference to me John.
Convict pulls a camel non filtered cigarette and lights it up, he lets the grayish smoke flow towards the camera lens.
Convict: John…you got something wrong my friend…I take great pleasure in what I do. I think of my self as an artist John…the ring is my canvas…your blood will be my paint John…and I will create a masterpiece of death and destruction…my very own Mona Lisa or Starry Night. You should feel honored John…Honored that I am saving this for you.
Convict Just smiles his evil grin at the camera.
Convict: You were right John…I don’t feel pity or remorse for the slaughter of people. I don’t care what I do to them…there cattle for the slaughter John…pity is for fools…remorse for the weak. It can’t help you to feel sorry for them…Men like us John…we’re Gods to them…well you were…your pity, your remorse makes you weak…like all of them. My lack of it…makes me strong. I am Darwinism at its finest John…survival of the fittest…the weak shall not inherit the Earth John…It will be the strong.
Convict begins to frown almost as if he is sad.
Convict: I wonder John…where did you go wrong…did you fly to close to the sun on wings made of wax? Were you unable to handle the burdens of being what you truly are? Don’t try to bullshit me John…don’t try to tell me you have changed…a leopard cant change its spots John…a tiger cant get rid of his stripes…And monsters like you and I…don’t suddenly feel remorse or any of that other bullshit you mentioned…you did that to the girl because she was weak…unworthy…its what makes men like you and I Gods John…men that will be talked about till the end of time itself.
Convict smiles again as he motions towards the camera for someone to walk out. Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan slowly creeps into the camera shot. Convict motions for him to face the camera, and then places an arm over his shoulder.
Convict: Quiet Ed, just look at the camera…John, I want to show you how easy it is…how simple it can be done.
Convict’s other hand reaches into his black leather overcoat and pulls out a shank. The metal glistens and shines in the low lighted warehouse. And in a simple quick motion like watching lightning strike, Convict thrusts it into Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan’s stomach area. Eddie’s screams fill the warehouse. Convict lets him go and Eddie falls to the cold hard floor. His hands gripping his stomach applying pressure to the wound. Convict puts the shank back into his pocket, and slowly bends down.
Convict: Don’t worry Ed, nothing major was cut…not an artery or even your stomach…I’m like a fuckin surgeon with a scalpel…a couple of stitches you’ll be fine.
Convict looks at the camera.
Convict: I could have killed him John…I could end his life if I chose…I sparred him…why? Because John…Because I want you to see what it is like to see a friend hurt…I want you to feel that rush of anger…John…I want to save you…give you back the power you so desperately are missing in your life…John…you will get it back…you will be whole again…even if I have to kill you.
Convict stands up, and peers down upon Eddie “the Lens” Sullivan still screaming in agony. Convict slowly walks away into the shadows.