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Juvenile Delinquency; I, Battlelines
Topic Started: May 20 2016, 02:51 PM (26 Views)
Grace Goeren

No wonder these kids are screw-ups, look at this place. Ugh.

Watch it.

Didn’t mean anything personal by it.

Sure you didn’t. Pass me my bag, I want to make sure they didn’t mess anything up when they searched us.

Here. So, how long do you think you’re going to be?

As long as it takes. I want to make sure he’s on the right path.

This is your play, Grace. Make sure you get him.

Oh he’s already been got. I told you, I took care of this already. I just need to...what’s that bullshit you always say? I need to “monitor the situation”.

There you go.

Yeah. There I go.

Grace Goeren spits out a piece of gum into the nearby garbage can and rummages through her purse, making sure the goodies she has with her are still intact. Grace is dressed far more fashionable than she typically does, a slim black dress hugs her body tightly and a red leather designer jacket completes the look. The new clothing and stylish handbag are gifts given to her to celebrate her success. She likes them. First time in her life she’s had clothes bought specifically for her.

Her manager and the former EWA Head of Talent Relations Duane Gates sits next to her on the wooden bench, letting out an annoyed sigh.


This is taking forever.

The two of them find themselves in the lobby of the Baltimore Juvenile Justice Center, having just arrived from the airport only an hour earlier. An odd destination for sure, but one that has a specific purpose behind it.

The detention facility holds the worst of Maryland’s youth who have committed violent crimes but are too young to prosecute. The hope is that this center will rehabilitate the young men and women who temporarily dwell within its walls before they become violent criminals through psychological and behavioral guidance. Since the duo arrived, they’ve already heard two screaming fights from inside the main visiting room along with a chair being thrown at a nearby window. Not exactly a glowing recommendation for the progress here. If the waiting room is any indication, the rest of the place is just as grim and hopeless as where Grace and Duane currently sit.

Grace cracks her neck and gives a pleasant smile to the receptionist behind the glass before resting her handbag over the arm of the bench.


Is there someone we can call or something? Hey! Let’s get some service here! We’ve been waiting for half an hour!

The younger Goeren gives a tug on Gates’ shoulder and sits him back down, throwing her hands up and giving another beleaguered smile to the receptionist.

They’ll get to us when they get to us. They said they had to get him from his room. That takes time and I’m sure they’re patting him down too. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to be patient?

Grace, I’m not even going to pretend to know why you thought this trip was necessary. With everything that has been put in motion, all of us need to be on the same page.

Most of us are.

You know what I mean.

Yeah.

So do what you have to do, but lets get back as quickly as we can. We need to get you ready for NOTHING at Battlelines. We need to get you ready for the EWA Network Championship Match at Path of the Warrior. We need to focus on what we’re going to do to your fath...

I know what’s going on, Mr. Gates.

Not saying you don’t. All I’m saying is that time is an issue here.

Miss Goeren?

Grace glances up with another jovial smile, standing up to demurely greet the security officer who just popped his head into the main lobby.

You guys can come on in. He’s over at Table 2.

About damn time!

Grace gives a nod of appreciation towards the security officer and grabs her bag, leaning down and nonchalantly whispering over to Duane without the guard noticing.

Where the fuck do you think you’re going?

With...you?

Please stay here, Mr. Gates.

What?!

You’ll scare the piss out of the kid. He knows about you and what you’ve done. Let me do my thing, check on him and we’ll be out of here and back to Boston in no time. I trust you completely, time to trust me on this one.

Gates does not look happy at all at this arrangement, but gives her a quick nod knowing his options are limited. Grace whispers to him again and gives him a wink.

You can destroy my father’s career and life inside an EWA ring better than anyone. Let me handle burning down the shitty life he’s built outside of it.

The sound of her shoes clicking against the polished floor ring out as she steps into a narrow hallway with the security officer who gives her last minute instructions.

Make sure you don’t hand him anything without having one of us check on it first. You can give him a hug when you first see him and when you leave, but no other times in between. We have a soda machine and a candy machine in the visiting room, you can purchase up to $5.00 worth of snacks for your trip but all food and drink must be disposed of before we take him back to his room.

I thought this was a rehabilitation center. Sounds more like a prison.

Sweetie? These days, they are one in the same.

The sound of a loud buzzer and the click of the door unlocking fills the small hallway as Grace steps into the visitor’s room, seeing two guard stand dutifully by the only exit out of the room. The room is sparsely decorated with tables and chairs that are either bolted into the ground or permanently a part of them. A few families take up space at various tables, quietly whispering to young men who wear the bright orange costumes of the convicted. She looks across the room and spots him sitting alone at Table 2. He slowly raises his head up, his normally joyous and energetic eyes now dull and exhausted.

Upon seeing his sister for the first time in months however, Max Goeren perks up.


GRACE!

She runs over to him and gives him a hug, holding her 15 year old half-brother tightly in her arms. The guards give a knock on the nearby wall, indicating that they need to separate which they both do begrudgingly. Grace grabs hold of young Max’s hand and holds it tight, sitting across from him. Max lets out a nervous laugh but is grinning from ear to ear upon seeing his best friend and confidant.

The last time we saw each other we were sitting at a table just like this.

Except we were eating ice cream, you doofus. Not stuck in...here…

Yeah.

You’re even bigger than the last time I saw you!

They have a pretty good gym in here. I’ve been lifting weights, like you said.

That is awesome. We’ll get you ready in no time. You gotta be excited to start training like me.

Yeah...I guess…

You’ll love it. You’ll be a natural.

The only things you can do in your free time are work out and read. That’s what I do a lot of times too, I’ve been reading these really cool book about this guy who dies and…

Whoa, go ahead and shitcan that reading boner you got there.

You’re gross.

You shouldn’t be wasting your time with garbage like that. Get out there and start putting the work in on your cardio. You wouldn’t believe how much of my day is dedicated to training now and I look and feel fucking FANTASTIC.

Yeah but you’re a wrestler. You got to train a lot.

Gotta look good in my spandex, right?

You don’t wear spandex.

Okay, my gym shorts then. Fuck, lighten up. It was a joke you little brat.

The real joke is that outfit you got on.

Oh my god, did you actually make fun of what I’m wearing?

Yeah, I did.

I’m a big time star now. This is what we stars wear.

You look like Ariana Grande.

You dick, take that back right now. I don’t care if you’re my brother, I will DDT you through this table.

Naw. I’m just trying to help you out. Gotta make sure you don’t make me look bad when you’re on TV.

Style advice, coming from you? Coming from the kid who never saw an Adidas t-shirt and a pair of ratty jeans he didn’t like?

Hey, I always looked sharp at school. I even had fresh Jordans on the day I…

Max stops in mid-sentence, the haunting memories of that day flooding back to him. Grace immediately picks up on this nonverbal cue and softens her voice.

How are they treating you, kid?

About as good as they can, I guess.

Really?

Max bites his lower lip, causing Grace to squeeze his hand tighter.

You’ll get out of here in no time kid. I know it. Considering the other fuck-ups they got behind these walls, there is no way you’re a threat compared to them.

Grace...I almost killed a guy. I belong here.

Oh fuck that noise. He deserved it. The judge is a fucking tard for sending you here.

I wish I didn’t...lose it. I wanted to say in control so badly, I really did…but he just kept laughing...and I just kept...stabbing...

Hey, hey, hey…

Grace reaches out and pulls her brother’s sagging chin up so she can look into his eyes. She whispers over to him sweetly, giving his hand another squeeze.

You did nothing wrong. Don’t ever apologize for being you. You’re beautiful. You’re amazing. You’re perfect. I mean, how can you not be? You’re related to me.

The two Goeren children share a laugh, easing the somberness slightly.

So...you gotta tell me. What was it like?

Haha, you heard?

One of the security guards knows that you’re my sister. He lets me know the results every week since I’ve been here.

Grace playfully breathes on her knuckles, rubbing them against her shoulder.

I don’t mean to brag or nothing, but your sister took about 19 of the biggest stars that EWA has to offer and made them all her personal bitch. I wish you could have seen it bro, I had them screaming. I had them begging. I mean, I was in fucking control with a capital C. God that felt sooooooo damn good! I wish you could have seen it. You will when we get you out of here. We’ll watch it together. We’ll get a pizza at Dante’s, kick back and you can watch me dump 19 pieces of shit over the top rope and fucking EARN my Network Championship shot.

Oh.

Hmm? That’s not exciting enough for you, Mr. Big Shot?

No, that’s awesome Grace. I really want to see that.

...but?

But that’s not what I was asking about.

What were you asking about, then?

Max nervously pauses.

What was it like watching him win the World Title?

It takes every ounce of determination and control to keep Grace from reaching over the table, grabbing her brother by the throat, ripping out his larynx and letting his blood spit and sputter all over her face.

Instead, she chooses the more diplomatic approach.


WHAT THE FUCK?! I can’t believe you just asked me that! After everything we...after everything he’s done to...WHAT THE FUCK, MAX?!

I’m sorry, I just...its so hard to turn it off. I can’t do it like you can. I can’t just...hate him…

Max. Fucking son of a bitch...okay, Max. We gotta talk about this now. You need to get those thoughts out of your head because that asshole doesn’t give a shit about you. Has he even come to visit you since they stuck you here?

No but my Aunt says that…

Oh fuck no, there is absolutely zero reason he hasn’t come to see you other than he doesn’t fucking care! God damn it, see I was worried about this. I knew you were going to relapse. I just knew it. Gates told me I was crazy for coming here but it was totally the right thing to do.

Gates?

Mr. Gates, my manager. The guy who has helped me realize just how much this world fucking owes me.

That...that doesn’t sound like you…

We all have to grow up sometime, kid. The world isn’t full of magic kingdoms and fairy farts. Listen, have I ever lied to you?

No…

Have I ever told you to do something that wasn’t in your best interests?

No…

Good. So first things first, get any sympathy or hope out your mind about our father. It’ll only drag you down. You don’t need him when you have me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll help guide you. Just stick to the training and get yourself ready. You’re young, but you’re going to be something special in this world. I know it and I want to make sure you can handle everything the business throws at you.

Yeah but Grace, I wanna talk to you about that. I don’t think I…

I know, you don’t think you’re ready. And you’re not. They’ll fucking kill you right now with that weak-ass attitude you have. But I’ll get you there. Just promise me something.

...what?

Promise me you’ll never ask about our father ever again. That fucking prick doesn’t deserve anything other than to be shit on and spit on, right?

Yeah...right…

What’s that?

I said you’re right.

There you go kid. Now listen, I’ve got to go. Big meetings back in Boston and I’ve got a big ol’ slice of NOTHING I’ve got to bitch slap back into reality. You keep training, okay? We’ll get you out of here in no time. Then the real fun will begin. We’ll show him, kid. With my help, we’ll make him pay for everything he’s ever done to us.

Grace stands up and gives her brother a quick hug, glancing down at her new watch and noticing the time.

Stay strong, kid. I’ll be back for you soon. Ciao!

Not even attempting to test the limits of the two-hug rule, Grace stands up from her chair and walks out towards the door, satisfied that she’s got her weapon primed and ready to fire. It was a bit touch and go there for a second. She knew that he was going to be displaying some weakness as he’s always been more fond of him than any of the other children. But she set things right.

Onto Battlelines.

Onto NOTHING.

Young Max watches his sister disappear from sight, apparently talking to someone just behind the door before it slams shut.

He’s alone again. He can’t show weakness here, the other boys will absolutely eat him up. It’s already been so tough for him to survive in this environment. They can’t know that he cries himself to sleep every night, thinking about his mother watching down on him from Heaven. He hopes she can still protect him because nobody else will.

Except...Grace?

He feels like he is betraying her. She’s always been there for him, but he just can’t hate him inherently like she can. He’s tried to, but the feelings just won’t come.

Is he broken?

The world thinks so, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. His own twisted mind and actions put him here. He did this to himself.

Didn’t he?

He should learn to hate. Toughen up, like his sister said. Get sick. Devolve. If the world hates him right now, he should hate the world right back. What else does he have to live for right now anyways?

There is nothing for him here.


Mom. Please. Help me.

*************************

OoOoOoOOoOoOOOoOoOoOooo.

Aren’t you one cryptic, twisted and delightfully evil mother fucker?

The legendary NOTHING, looking to tear down the EWA and rebuild it in his own image. Now he’s got his legendary crew up and running again with Crippler and Calder at his side. Time to run for cover! Take shelter! Everyone! Everyone! Beware HATE! Beware! Beewaaaaaaaaaaaarrrreeee!

Puh-lease.

Looks like someone got himself a fucking fantastic deal at Spirit Halloween before they closed shop because I’ve never seen so much smoke & mirrors with less meaning in my entire life.

I sit backstage and I hear all of the old-timers, emphasis on the old by the way, talk about how things are going to change around here now that the mythical NOTHING has returned to wrestling. I’ll admit, I was intrigued when I saw you show up. I’m not some ignorant bitch who thinks she can't learn anything from the past generations.

Trust me on that one. I know the value of listening to those who came before me.

I watched your matches on the Network, I read up on you on that new-fangled internets machine that’s out there...have your grandkids tell you about it someday, pops. You’ll love playing Sudoku on it and chatting it up on AOL.

Thing is, after all the hype that surrounded you coming back, all the noise that the sheep made when you first arrived...you have done abso-fucking NOTHING to warrant such a reputation.

Just my two cents, take it for what they’re worth and shove them directly up your cryptic, spooky geriatric ass.

People call me cocky and overconfident, but can you honestly blame me? Since I’ve shown up here, I’ve won a Battle Royal, qualified and advanced in the Path of the Warrior Tournament, decimated Sinnocence’s slutty little face, retired a wrestler for life and got myself an EWA Network Championship shot.

My 19th birthday is coming up in October, by the way.

Just FYI in case you want to get me something.

I could use a new pair of wrestling boots.

My last ones kept getting the blood of old fucking farts who think they’re still relevant on them so I had to toss them out.

See Mr. High and Mighty NOTHING Master of the God-Damned Universe, I’ve seen your type before. Not in the wrestling ring mind you, but in life. Nothing you are saying or prophesying is new or original, it’s the same drivel that spins around the toilet bowl before it gets flushed. It’s the same vomit that old and outdated fucks like yourself spew out to try and make yourselves feel like you’re still important.

That your name still means something.

That you can still keep up with the future.

Maybe I’m new to this business but you are the same dime-a-dozen loudmouth scumbag that hangs out at their old high school haunts even though they graduated 20 years ago. You talk about your glory days and how much you still got going for you in a vain attempt to impress the rest of us who still have a life to live and worlds to conquer.

Wanna know a secret, darling?

Nobody cares about NOTHING.

Not these days.

You and your new buddies talk about how EWA is going to be your playground and you’re going to ruin all of us who are here.

Wow, awesome fucking end-game there Dark Souls.

What EXACTLY will that get you?

After EWA dies, will you then spread your HATE to the 7-11 down the street or Quincy Market? Those assholes who run the sunglass hut deserve to be punished! I hear one of their employees actually smiled today, you better get down there and set their booth on fire to show how bad-ass and tough you moody emo cunts are.

Speaking of that, where do you twats get off talking about how tortured you are and how you’re going to spread your hate to all of our daily lives? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You talk about that emotion like it’s a bowl of potato salad at a picnic and everyone gets a spoonful.

What exactly do you have to hate these days, NOTHING?

The fact that you’re a so-called legend in this industry and have won over a dozen titles in your career?

The fact you got a nice big juicy contract to wheel your crippled ass back into my ring?

The fact that you steal my air time by babbling random evil gibberish about shit you know absolutely nothing about?

Nothing about nothing.

Silly old man playing silly little games about to get run the fuck over by the future.

Let me ask you a question. You ever wake up in the middle of the night screaming because you heard your door creek open?

You ever want to rip a man’s throat out because he accidentally made contact with your bare skin on the subway?

You ever live on the streets, sleeping under a park bench in December because you didn’t want to go home and get beat the fuck up?

No?

Oh. No, I’m sure you’re still full of hate and rage. Hate away. You know everything about real hate. You’re a real bad-ass.

Listen, I know everyone is going to say I’m stirring the pot here. I’m throwing rocks at the hornet’s nest and laughing my ass off as they start buzzing.

But that’s what I do because I know I’m better than the rest of you has-beens who think I should fear you because of your name alone. I don’t fear anyone in this god-damned world anymore, and I certainly don’t fear anyone in EWA. So at Battlelines, my main goal is to advance in the Path of the Warrior tournament and get my rightful shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. You’re in my way. So, time to remove you from the equation.

I’m not content with just the Network Championship title shot I have in hand. I want it all. I’m not satisfied with empty threats on the microphone and moody theatrics. I’m the blunt fist that smashes into your face the second you hear a knock at the door.

So NOTHING, bring your boy band down to the ring with you. I still owe Calder a broken kneecap and I’ve always wanted to test just how thick Crippler’s skull truly is. You can’t seem to win any matches without anyone giving you a hand, so I’ll expect the whole crew to saunter down to the ring with you at Battlelines.

Won’t matter.

The little self-help group that you call HATE is about to feel what true hate really is. It’s not something you can assign to yourself or constantly remind the world that you have. It’s not something you’re born with.

It’s a horrible gift that is given to you through no fault of your own.

I just want to give mine away.

Let me give it to you.

Then you’ll know.

Love you.

Dick.


*************************

Later.

Max’s hands shake uncontrollably. They’ve done that for a long time now, he gets like that when he knows he has to do something he doesn’t want to do. Call it nerves or anxiety, the pills certainly don’t help and neither does the therapy.

The voice screaming inside his head begs him to stop.

But he can’t.

He needs to survive and show the world he’s not scared.

He spots him in the cafeteria of the Juvenile Justice Center, sitting at the head of the table and boasting about the things he’s going to do when he gets out. He’s the biggest alpha dog of this center and one of Max’s main tormentors here.

This is the only way.

Make Grace proud. You’ll be here longer but they’ll all fear you. That’s...worth it. Isn’t it?

He feels the slender, cold metal resting between his fingers. Snuck out from his bed, fashioned from springs. Max’s fingers run across the tip. Not particularly sharp but enough to get the job done and prove his point.

Hopefully God is with this boy like he was with Max’s other victim in the lunchroom at school.

Max hears the loud yelling and laughing from the boy’s group, none of them have any idea what’s about to happen. Nobody sees Max as a threat, they won’t think twice with him walking by their table. Just close enough to get the job done. He’ll get his ass kicked and jumped, but the guards will pull the rest of them off before they can do any real damage.

Time to man up.

Show them.

Make them fear…


Max?

He freezes at the sound of the security office near the doorway calling out to him. He knows. He’s seen it. Oh god, it’s all falling apart. That must be it, that must be it, that must be it.

Y...Yeah?

You have a visitor.

What?

You have a visitor. Head down to the visitor’s room if you want to meet him.

Him? Don’t...don’t you mean her? My sister again, right?

The security officer glances down at his clipboard and shakes his head.

Nope, not her.

Says here your father is here to see you.
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