Sins of the Father IV: Dreams and Heroes Jul 16, 2018 20:03:09 GMT -5
Post by Gerard Angelo on Jul 16, 2018 20:03:09 GMT -5
It was the middle of the night. The hotel room was dark, the only light was the blue glow of the television illuminating what it could of the room. Passed out in an arm chair was Gerard Angelo. Shirtless and snoring, he drools on himself as the TV is left on a random news channel. Pick one you like, that’s the one. Clutched in one hand is a three quarters empty bottle of Jose Cuervo. The anchor lady with the nice hair is running down the news stories as The Hollywood Hero snoozes his drunk off.
“…In other news, Republican Senate candidate Bill McGrogan remains in critical, but stable, condition after he was shot in a mugging gone wrong last…..”
The bottle slips from Gerry’s hand and hit the carpets floor with a muffled impact, the golden liquid pouring out of the mouth, creating a dark wet spot on the carpet as Gerry snores deeper. The actor seemed to be going through a lot lately. From his movie not getting accepted to his cop show dipping in ratings, his Hollywood career had been anything but champagne and strawberries. His wrestling career has been slightly better, but still no where near what he had been in the past.
He was a former World Champion. He had held more titles then most guys even get opportunities for. Now he seemed to just be treading water. Could it be a conspiracy against him like he was starting to believe? Maybe. Was it just simply a string of bad luck combined with ring rust? Most likely. Or was it that Gerard Angelo simply couldn’t hang in the business anymore? Maybe the knee injury took something away from him. Hell there was proof to back this up. Gerard went to a double count out with Gabriel. The new, weird, dude beat him handedly. There was no excuse for that. Gerard simply needed to get better, or get lost. He knew it, too. It was just hard to accept, hence the putting his liver through the drinking equivalent of the New Japan Dojo every night.
Gerard continued to sleep, but his mind was going a thousand miles a minute. His dreams had been odd this whole week since Trauma ended. In fact, this one now was quite odd.
Gerry found himself dressed in one of his nicest grey suits, sitting in the middle of a pew in a glorious church. Angelo looked around and rolled his eyes.
“You have got to be shitting me? We’re really doing this again?” He asked.
Yes. Yes we are, Gerard. For it is I, your humble narrator.
“Oh is it? I thought it was the other annoying voice that mansplains things I’m already doing.”
Your words won’t hurt me this time. Besides, you know you missed me.
“I really need to stop doing drugs.” Gerard says, rubbing his eyes, hoping he wakes up soon. He is interrupted by the church organ beginning to play. Gerry, startled, looks around for it but can’t find it.
“Why the fuck are you doing this?”
Because this is what they do in the movies and television you love so much. We have a dream quest and then you find some hidden knowledge thats helps you over come an obstacle, duh. Television 101, dude.
“I really hate you. I’m so glad you aren’t a reoccurring character anymore.”
“Nothing, never mind. So what is this nonsense you’re trying to do?”
Well, we are in a church because the guy you’re wrestling this week is a religious zealot. Also some other nonsense about religion helping people through tough times, much like you’re going through now.
“Wait, wasn’t I suppose to come up with that conclusion myself?”
“You’re a fucking awful narrator.”
I know YOU ARE but WHAT AM I?
FINE. Maybe I can go get a job doing movie trailers or something. IN A WORLD…
“Yeah good luck. No please leave.”
The sound of a door slamming randomly happens and Gerard suddenly wakes up. He rubs his temples, his groggy face illuminated. Even in dreams, he was surrounded by idiots. He sat back in the arm chair, rubbing his eyes. He could still see the beautiful stained glass windows depicting various biblical scenes. Gerard had never been very religious in his life, even very young. Sure, his mother had dragged him and Sean to church on Sundays when he was a child, but he never took to the Bible. Gerard had always asked too many questions to be a real believer. The stories of a man building a boat to house every animal or a lady getting pregnant with out sex were always so peculiar to him. So much so he’s a full fledged Atheist. Not one that goes around and tells you you’re an idiot for believing a magic story, though.
He also knew religion had helped a lot of people get through some dark times in their life. Some of his best friends in the wrestling business were saved by God. It was great and he was happy for them. But then there was people like Gabriel and Seromine. Men who took the good teaching of Jesus Christ and perverted it into something to justify them being shitty people. It has happened through out history, hell the Roman Catholic Church was no wait either, but that was besides the point.
Gerry stretched and his foot kicked the tequila bottle that was lay on it side by the chair. He reached down with a groan and picked up the bottle and shook it around. There was about a mouthful still left in the bottle that hadn’t leaked onto the carpet. The Hollywood Hero shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips, draining the rest of it. It seemed as though he and Gabriel were polar opposites at this point in their careers. Gabriel was all about serving his “Lord” and trying to burry his past life. Gerard was trying to uncover his past and make himself the guy in PCW. And that road lead right through Gabriel at this point.
Hell, Gerry had a huge bone to pick the former NLCW Cruiserweight champion. The man cheated him out of a win a few weeks ago, and then jumped the actor last time out. PCW had granted them a Falls Count Anywhere match to make sure that the match wouldn’t end in a count out. Bless them, he thought, because he was going to put an end to Gabriel at Trauma. Gerard planned on making such a statement that Gabriel wouldn’t have to worry about if Seromine still loved him, or if he was getting rim jobs from Tyler Scott now. He wouldn’t worry about if he was Rick Majors, or Gabriel, or John Malkovich. He would simply have to worry about Gerard fuckin’ Angelo. The Man With Out Peer.
Gerry lifted the empty Cuervo bottle again and stared at it.
Maybe it was time.
“I am very disappointed in your men, Mister Semenov.”
Anthony Angelo was not a very happy man at the moment. He wasn’t angry though. Anger was for weak willed men. Getting mad because a part of your plan didn’t go your way was the quickest way to have everything fall apart. That’s why he was more disappointed then anything. He leaned back on the leather bench of the limo carrying him back to AngCorp from his home in New York City. He took a sip from his glass of scotch as he continued to speak out loud for the speakerphone of his burner.
“I thought you said they were going to take care of our problem,” he said, looking out the tinted windows into the bustling streets of the Empire City.
“Mister Angelo, we will have this little problem solved very soon,” a deep, chilling, voice with a Russian accent answered back through the phone. “The one who didn’t finish his work has already been dealt with accordingly.”
Tony himself almost felt odd with the way he had said ‘dealt with accordingly’. Almost. He knew what he was getting into with this partnership. Was it ideal? No, but there was much more riding on this then morality. The end justified the means, as it has been said.
“Well, Mr Semenov, we just need to make sure our problem is handled. If we fail, it helps neither of us.”
A cold evil chuckle is heard over the line.
“It will be done.”
A click is heard as the phone hangs up. Tony turns looking out the window again, taking another sip from the glass. McGrogan had survived being shot three times. It was impressive, even Tony had to admit. He admired the toughness the old Marine had shown. Hell, if he wasn’t an obstacle in the way, Tony almost would’ve felt bad. Almost. Hopefully, Mr. Semenov can take care of it and it will be smooth sailing all the way to November. Last thing he needed was to create a hero.
Because he needed to be the hero the people think they need.