Post by gvb on May 3, 2020 9:25:14 GMT -6
“Dad would be so proud…”
That thought amused and horrified him at the same time. There was a time in his teenage years where he wanted to be just like his old man. That aura of respect surrounding him, the way people would revere him and the things they were willing to do to stay in his good graces… What kid wouldn’t love to have that kind of power, that kind of influence?
It lasted for the first couple of his teenage years, before he eventually saw the flip side of the coin. They didn’t respect his father, they feared him. They did everything he asked them because of the horrible things he would have done to them and their family. Sure, he was a powerful man, his word and his connection were granting him influence over local politicians and public functionaries. But all that was coming with a moral toll Dylan Brady, the soon-to-be Donovan Keane, wasn’t willing to pay.
“Well, use the time cooling off to get creative Donovan.” This was what Vincent Moretti. the Riot General Manager told him before getting him arrested. Good man, the ole Vinnie. A fair boss, with a true passion for the business and know-how necessary to run a place filled with so many bigger than life personalities. Donovan couldn’t hold any grudge against him for this decision, he was aware of what could happen if he ignored the suspension and showed up to the arena. Sneaking in wasn’t even that hard, no crowd and only essential personnel mean less security around, both in and outside the Arena. He could have easily taken Asher out before the match even started and, with a bit of luck, leaving without being noticed.
But he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, to see if with that bat to the face Donovan knocked some sense in him, if he got the message and learned the lesson. For minutes he watched from afar, protected by the darkness covering the empty stands. He watched Asher doing anything but wrestle Leia, hitting her with unnecessary violence, pushing his luck against a far too permissive referee. Every fiber in his being was pushing him toward that ring to end a match that, for him, was getting harder and harder to watch. But he resisted, for Leia.
Her determination to get retribution for all the pain Miles caused them was almost touching. And his pleas to renounce, all his attempts to convince her get the match cancelled were to no avail. Leia was fighting well, proving all her doubters that she was more than just a pretty face. But when the fight was taken on the outside, things turned from bad to worse. With Asher tossing her against the barricade and the steel steps, that bad omen that had been creeping in the back of his head since the match was announced started shaping up as an ineluctable reality. Miles rolled Leia back in the and picked up the steel steps from the floor. That was it, Donnie popped up off his seat and rushed to the ring. The rest was history, caught on tape and still available for streaming on MENTV. Him pushing Kaia, Leia getting the win, the staredown, the arrest...
Ha had been sitting in this 6x8 cell for hours, alone with those thoughts that had been obsessing him for days now. Who was Asher Miles? Why did he target him? What was he trying to accomplish? What were his motives?
"Keane, you have visitors." Leia, most likely. Coming to check on him and tell him that she'll bail him out as soon as possible. Of course it had to be her, who else could this be?
"K- Kelly?"
"You look like you've seen a ghost, kid." The old cop said with a thread of voice. Not a ghost, but the closest thing to one. He hadn't seen the old cop since January, since his last meltdown and his trip to Boston.
Since the day he wanted to take his own life.
Kelly Walsh, a life spent on the frontline, "cleaning the Boston streets from the scum of the earth" as he loved to say. A life that almost ended that day on the roof of the Troy Apartments building, where he talked Donovan out of the extreme gesture he was threatening to commit. He left him still unconscious, laying in a hospital bed. Out of danger, said the doctor that was treating him, but with a long road to recovery still ahead of him. A road that brought him to Chicago, short-winded and fatigued, looking like he’s aged 10 years in the three months since he last saw him. He was dragging his feet, coming here must’ve been an impossible effort for someone in his conditions.
“What are you doing here?” Donovan asked to the man who just stepped in his cell. His hair gone completely grey, he was no longer dyeing them. He was sweating a lot more than a healthy man was supposed to but at least that awful cigarette breath was gone. Not the cheap cologne smell, that was still there and stronger than ever.
The old detective sat down next to Donovan, catching his breath. He turned his head to Donnie, smiling like a good father would do. “I had a feeling you were about to do something stupid. And my instinct was once again right.”
A hint of a smile appeared on Donnie’s face. “Me fucking up is pretty much a safe bet these days…” Was his comment as he stretched out. For the first time since entering that cell, he got up from the bunk and begane pacing the room, almost measuring it up as he paced back and forth. “So this is how my old man is living his life?” He casually said looking out through the bars on the window.
“Nah, his room is bigger. The bed is more comfortable, and he has a TV. Perks of redeeming yourself and cooperate with justice.”
He stopped caring about his father when he dropped his name and became Donovan Keane, entering Witness Protection and starting a new life for him and his sister in Las Vegas. He never visited him, never called him, never sent a letter… He never even asked where he was detained, or if he was still alive. He cut him out of his life completely, trying to forget who he was and what he did. But he always pictured him in a cramped cell, alone in the dark with his demons, with the ghosts of all the lives he took, directly or indirectly, forced to live the rest of his days miserably with that oppressing guilt, with the awareness of having ruined every single life he ever touched. Like a cancer. And now hearing the truth about his conditions made his blood boil in his veins. It could have been the same for Kelly, he had all the rights to; that man killed his wife, pushing his daughter to commit suicide and him in the coils of depression.
But detective Walsh wasn’t angry. He sounded bitter, and that was far worse. Anger is over with time, but bitterness… Bitterness lasts. The fact that the same institutions he sacrificed his life for for almost thirty year were rewarding a man that made a fool of them and everything they stood up for for his whole life was so perversely ironic that felt like a hard slap to the face, a reminder that justice is rarely fair.
“I’m… I’m sorry…” Donovan said sitting back to the old detective who has become more a fatherly figure than his biological father could ever be.
“Not your fault, son.” Kelly answered trying to push back that anguished sense of helplessness that was weighing on his chest. “John told me you got in trouble with some guy, I came to Chicago to talk with you after that wrestling show and find out you were arrested… Shit, I didn’t even think you guys had to abide by the laws of us common mortals…”
Chuckling, Donovan replied. “We seem to get away with a lot of crazy stuff, I know… But apparently, disobey a suspension order gets you locked up.” Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s cool tho, I would do it again one hundred times. He was going to hurt Leia, like he did Jay. I couldn’t let him do that.”
Kelly watched the young man sitting to his right as he was talking to him, describing the well known events that characterized the past few weeks on Riot. There was a lot of pent-up anger he was trying to hide, but the most concerning thing he noticed was the absolute calm and lucidity he was sporting. Especially when he talked about how he planned the attack a couple of weeks ago. A simple, effective and brutal plan he came up with in a couple of minutes. “Christ… What did you do to this Archer kid?”
“Asher… Asher Miles. Fuck if I know..” Was his blunt replied blurted out as he bumped his head back against the wall. “He came out of nowhere, acted all friendly and then started fucking with me like this… I never seen him before”
The name wasn’t ringing any bell to the old detective. “I could show you his face, if I had my fucking phone…”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Kelly stood up and called the guard. A moment later and they came back with Donnie’s phone, allowing him to access to his Twitter account and find Asher’s profile. As soon as he saw the picture on the screen, Walsh grew pale, widening his eyes and starting to mumble.
“No… No fucking way… It… It can’t…”
He never cursed, that was how Donnie knew this was serious. Because of that and because he could hear Kelly’s heart pounding in his chest with an accelerated rhythm, “No.. Kelly no... You can’t do this to me Kelly. Not again…” Donnie pleaded him, squeezing his hand just like he did for an entire day as the old detective was laying unconscious in a hospital bed back in January. “Keep calm buddy, breathe…” He was no doctor, but that sounded like a good advice anyway. Donovan’s eyes kept flickering from Walsh to the phone screen, trying to understand what he was missing.
This kid will be the death of me… He thought to himself, gradually calming down. His breath went back to normal, his heart started slowing down to its regular pace. How come he didn’t see it? How could he not recognize him? Sure, time passed and he had changed. He was no longer the pimply kid with slicked-back hair he used to be when he walked the South Boston streets along with Dylan Brady fearless, untouchables, with that bravado typical of those who have that little corner of the world in the palm of their hands. “Christ, Donnie… Don’t you see?” Keane shook his head. How long did he stare at that picture to find a reason, an explanation of why Asher was so obsessed with him. He knew they had met at some point, Kaia clearly suggested it, under the threat of a baseball bat. But still, he couldn’t place him.
“It’s Noah... Noah Murphy.”
Noah Murphy.
A name he hadn’t heard in ten years, since he left Boston and that part of his life behind.
And, for the first time since then, Donovan Keane felt fear.
That thought amused and horrified him at the same time. There was a time in his teenage years where he wanted to be just like his old man. That aura of respect surrounding him, the way people would revere him and the things they were willing to do to stay in his good graces… What kid wouldn’t love to have that kind of power, that kind of influence?
It lasted for the first couple of his teenage years, before he eventually saw the flip side of the coin. They didn’t respect his father, they feared him. They did everything he asked them because of the horrible things he would have done to them and their family. Sure, he was a powerful man, his word and his connection were granting him influence over local politicians and public functionaries. But all that was coming with a moral toll Dylan Brady, the soon-to-be Donovan Keane, wasn’t willing to pay.
“Well, use the time cooling off to get creative Donovan.” This was what Vincent Moretti. the Riot General Manager told him before getting him arrested. Good man, the ole Vinnie. A fair boss, with a true passion for the business and know-how necessary to run a place filled with so many bigger than life personalities. Donovan couldn’t hold any grudge against him for this decision, he was aware of what could happen if he ignored the suspension and showed up to the arena. Sneaking in wasn’t even that hard, no crowd and only essential personnel mean less security around, both in and outside the Arena. He could have easily taken Asher out before the match even started and, with a bit of luck, leaving without being noticed.
But he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, to see if with that bat to the face Donovan knocked some sense in him, if he got the message and learned the lesson. For minutes he watched from afar, protected by the darkness covering the empty stands. He watched Asher doing anything but wrestle Leia, hitting her with unnecessary violence, pushing his luck against a far too permissive referee. Every fiber in his being was pushing him toward that ring to end a match that, for him, was getting harder and harder to watch. But he resisted, for Leia.
Her determination to get retribution for all the pain Miles caused them was almost touching. And his pleas to renounce, all his attempts to convince her get the match cancelled were to no avail. Leia was fighting well, proving all her doubters that she was more than just a pretty face. But when the fight was taken on the outside, things turned from bad to worse. With Asher tossing her against the barricade and the steel steps, that bad omen that had been creeping in the back of his head since the match was announced started shaping up as an ineluctable reality. Miles rolled Leia back in the and picked up the steel steps from the floor. That was it, Donnie popped up off his seat and rushed to the ring. The rest was history, caught on tape and still available for streaming on MENTV. Him pushing Kaia, Leia getting the win, the staredown, the arrest...
Ha had been sitting in this 6x8 cell for hours, alone with those thoughts that had been obsessing him for days now. Who was Asher Miles? Why did he target him? What was he trying to accomplish? What were his motives?
"Keane, you have visitors." Leia, most likely. Coming to check on him and tell him that she'll bail him out as soon as possible. Of course it had to be her, who else could this be?
"K- Kelly?"
"You look like you've seen a ghost, kid." The old cop said with a thread of voice. Not a ghost, but the closest thing to one. He hadn't seen the old cop since January, since his last meltdown and his trip to Boston.
Since the day he wanted to take his own life.
Kelly Walsh, a life spent on the frontline, "cleaning the Boston streets from the scum of the earth" as he loved to say. A life that almost ended that day on the roof of the Troy Apartments building, where he talked Donovan out of the extreme gesture he was threatening to commit. He left him still unconscious, laying in a hospital bed. Out of danger, said the doctor that was treating him, but with a long road to recovery still ahead of him. A road that brought him to Chicago, short-winded and fatigued, looking like he’s aged 10 years in the three months since he last saw him. He was dragging his feet, coming here must’ve been an impossible effort for someone in his conditions.
“What are you doing here?” Donovan asked to the man who just stepped in his cell. His hair gone completely grey, he was no longer dyeing them. He was sweating a lot more than a healthy man was supposed to but at least that awful cigarette breath was gone. Not the cheap cologne smell, that was still there and stronger than ever.
The old detective sat down next to Donovan, catching his breath. He turned his head to Donnie, smiling like a good father would do. “I had a feeling you were about to do something stupid. And my instinct was once again right.”
A hint of a smile appeared on Donnie’s face. “Me fucking up is pretty much a safe bet these days…” Was his comment as he stretched out. For the first time since entering that cell, he got up from the bunk and begane pacing the room, almost measuring it up as he paced back and forth. “So this is how my old man is living his life?” He casually said looking out through the bars on the window.
“Nah, his room is bigger. The bed is more comfortable, and he has a TV. Perks of redeeming yourself and cooperate with justice.”
He stopped caring about his father when he dropped his name and became Donovan Keane, entering Witness Protection and starting a new life for him and his sister in Las Vegas. He never visited him, never called him, never sent a letter… He never even asked where he was detained, or if he was still alive. He cut him out of his life completely, trying to forget who he was and what he did. But he always pictured him in a cramped cell, alone in the dark with his demons, with the ghosts of all the lives he took, directly or indirectly, forced to live the rest of his days miserably with that oppressing guilt, with the awareness of having ruined every single life he ever touched. Like a cancer. And now hearing the truth about his conditions made his blood boil in his veins. It could have been the same for Kelly, he had all the rights to; that man killed his wife, pushing his daughter to commit suicide and him in the coils of depression.
But detective Walsh wasn’t angry. He sounded bitter, and that was far worse. Anger is over with time, but bitterness… Bitterness lasts. The fact that the same institutions he sacrificed his life for for almost thirty year were rewarding a man that made a fool of them and everything they stood up for for his whole life was so perversely ironic that felt like a hard slap to the face, a reminder that justice is rarely fair.
“I’m… I’m sorry…” Donovan said sitting back to the old detective who has become more a fatherly figure than his biological father could ever be.
“Not your fault, son.” Kelly answered trying to push back that anguished sense of helplessness that was weighing on his chest. “John told me you got in trouble with some guy, I came to Chicago to talk with you after that wrestling show and find out you were arrested… Shit, I didn’t even think you guys had to abide by the laws of us common mortals…”
Chuckling, Donovan replied. “We seem to get away with a lot of crazy stuff, I know… But apparently, disobey a suspension order gets you locked up.” Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s cool tho, I would do it again one hundred times. He was going to hurt Leia, like he did Jay. I couldn’t let him do that.”
Kelly watched the young man sitting to his right as he was talking to him, describing the well known events that characterized the past few weeks on Riot. There was a lot of pent-up anger he was trying to hide, but the most concerning thing he noticed was the absolute calm and lucidity he was sporting. Especially when he talked about how he planned the attack a couple of weeks ago. A simple, effective and brutal plan he came up with in a couple of minutes. “Christ… What did you do to this Archer kid?”
“Asher… Asher Miles. Fuck if I know..” Was his blunt replied blurted out as he bumped his head back against the wall. “He came out of nowhere, acted all friendly and then started fucking with me like this… I never seen him before”
The name wasn’t ringing any bell to the old detective. “I could show you his face, if I had my fucking phone…”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Kelly stood up and called the guard. A moment later and they came back with Donnie’s phone, allowing him to access to his Twitter account and find Asher’s profile. As soon as he saw the picture on the screen, Walsh grew pale, widening his eyes and starting to mumble.
“No… No fucking way… It… It can’t…”
He never cursed, that was how Donnie knew this was serious. Because of that and because he could hear Kelly’s heart pounding in his chest with an accelerated rhythm, “No.. Kelly no... You can’t do this to me Kelly. Not again…” Donnie pleaded him, squeezing his hand just like he did for an entire day as the old detective was laying unconscious in a hospital bed back in January. “Keep calm buddy, breathe…” He was no doctor, but that sounded like a good advice anyway. Donovan’s eyes kept flickering from Walsh to the phone screen, trying to understand what he was missing.
This kid will be the death of me… He thought to himself, gradually calming down. His breath went back to normal, his heart started slowing down to its regular pace. How come he didn’t see it? How could he not recognize him? Sure, time passed and he had changed. He was no longer the pimply kid with slicked-back hair he used to be when he walked the South Boston streets along with Dylan Brady fearless, untouchables, with that bravado typical of those who have that little corner of the world in the palm of their hands. “Christ, Donnie… Don’t you see?” Keane shook his head. How long did he stare at that picture to find a reason, an explanation of why Asher was so obsessed with him. He knew they had met at some point, Kaia clearly suggested it, under the threat of a baseball bat. But still, he couldn’t place him.
“It’s Noah... Noah Murphy.”
Noah Murphy.
A name he hadn’t heard in ten years, since he left Boston and that part of his life behind.
And, for the first time since then, Donovan Keane felt fear.