Post by vastrix on Jul 4, 2021 2:02:59 GMT -5
The Bankhead neighborhood in Atlanta, Georgia.
It’s unlikely that the neighborhood has seen so many moving vans in one place ever. Several apartment buildings that had been vacated are now being filled by families. The apartment buildings seem as if they are being refilled all at once.
Though all of them are being observed from the shadows.
A young couple is watching from the side as movers bring in their furniture and other belongings in boxes into their apartment. A young man in a red t-shirt with the letter “F” on it and jeans with a black jacket. His face is painted up to look like…”D”. He walks up to the couple with a picture in hand.
F: Excuse me, but have you seen these people around here?
The picture is of a couple that used to live at the apartment building that the new couple is moving into.
F: I know that many of the old residents had their leases paid off, but not this couple. They had nowhere to go. They didn’t want to leave the place they called home. They have since vanished. With the dumpster fires that raged for the past few weeks, I fear the worst.
The young couple look at the picture for a moment before shaking their heads to indicate that they have not seen the other couple. F appears saddened by the news, but then eyes the next family waiting by a moving truck to go ask. As he goes to leave, the woman stops him.
Woman: If you don’t mind my asking. What does “F” mean?
F looks down at his shirt, tracing the letter with his free hand.
F: You know how you type F for respect? It’s that. These people and more might be dead. Who will remember them? Who will respect the fact that they are missing? I will be their champion. I will become the new Bankhead Boogeyman.
Woman: Oh. I see. You have a number in case we see these…people?
F: Yeah.
F gives the woman his number and moves on to the next family with his picture. The young woman looks to the young man with the number in hand. The young man nods and sends a text message containing the cell phone number so given.
Hours later, F is several blocks away from where the neighborhood is being replenished. He’s at his own apartment and looks out through the window, watching as burnt out dumpsters are replaced by even more moving vans. There was at least one family per building that had gone missing though it was hard to keep track of who went where when most families were paid off to find someplace to live with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Not everyone wanted or could do a clean slate like that.
The question in F’s mind was simple. Where was the original Bankhead Boogeyman? Where was D? He was up North in Canada and being NPW’s Openweight Champion. As if some wrestling career were more important than the lives he should have been saving here.
F sighs and heads to his easy chair and turns on the news. There is a report on how the neighborhood of Bankhead is moving up with many apartment buildings being replaced by well to do families, but nothing about those missing. Not a word.
Before the news is finished, F is asleep in his chair with his remote control in his lap. Hours go by and F nearly leaps out of his chair when there is a pounding at the door. He gets up from his chair, knocking the remote control to the floor. He contemplates picking it up, but the pounding at the door continues. He walks toward the door to answer it when he walks past his kitchen and sees that his refrigerator door is open. He stops in his tracks when he sees a feminine hand on the top of the door, but doesn’t see who it belongs to. There’s a crazy provocative scent in the air that evokes vanilla, sandalwood, and other things that he can’t quite identify.
F opens his mouth to speak, but then nearly jumps out of his skin at the pounding at the door.
A woman’s voice speaks up as F stares with wide eyes at who could be in his apartment without him having known.
Woman: You wouldn’t have sprung for some Fillico have you, dahling? I mean I do prefer Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani. It makes Fillico seem like tap water, you know, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The fridge door is closed, revealing Esmeralda von Krauss as she stands up tall in the kitchen in a shimmering green dress that must have hundreds of gemstones and diamonds upon it. She bats her eyes at F before motioning to the door.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Answer the door, dahling. If you cannot supply a woman with a most refined water, the least you can do as host is answer the door.
F: Umm…right.
F walks over to the door and opens it to reveal Gerald Kingston, head of security for the project that has been ongoing in Bankhead. F backs away from the door, allowing Gerald to walk into the apartment.
F: What…what is the meaning of this? I’ve done nothing wrong!
Esmeralda giggles lightly at Fs protests and dismisses him with a wave.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Oh, F. You do go on. You’ve been questioning my people for days to try to find people that simply don’t exist.
F: I was just watching tv…
Gerald Kingston: You still have your face paint on. We have pictures of you talking to the people moving into those apartments.
F looks from Esmeralda to Gerald, backing up into his living room where he grabs a picture from the table by his easy chair. He waves the picture of a couple in front of them.
F: You killed these people! I will stop you from doing…whatever it is you’re doing!
Gerald Kingston walks over to the window that F had been looking out of. He sees the moving vans and the couple of remaining burnt out dumpsters.
Gerald Kingston: How far are we up, F?
F: Eight stories?
Gerald Kingston: It’s a nice view of the neighborhood. We are improving this area. There are fewer raps, robberies, mugging, burglaries, and whatever you poor people do to each other. These new families are well to do. They will watch out for one another. Bankhead will no longer be the shame of Atlanta. I’m sure you've seen it on the news.
F: All done at the expense of lives! If D were here-
Esmeralda von Krauss: He would do nothing, dahling. He is sworn to do nothing.
F: Why would he do such a thing?
Esmeralda von Krauss: Why indeed? He has his fortune and glory at long last. He may even turn his current glory into one that drives at the heart of Lord Dominicus to become the best champion that the NPW has ever seen. Why would he not swear to not interfere in exchange for blessings from the wrestling world that he so idolizes?
F looks from Esmeralda to Gerald, looking more and more desperate as they stare at him. He raises his fists.
F: I’ll…I’ll fight you! I am the new Bankhead Boogeyman after all.
Esmeralda von Krauss: How many mugging have you stopped, dahling? How many would be sexual predators have you brought down? I am the reason that crime has gone down in Bankhead. I have driven the filth from this neighborhood. No, you seek out people who don’t even exist.
F holds aloft the picture in his hand like it were a holy symbol driving off an ancient vampire.
F: They existed! They lived! You had them killed for not moving and…burned their corpses with their belongings. I’m calling the police!
F grabs his cell phone from his chair side table, but a gunshot passes through F’s hand. The phone falls to the floor and blood sprays from the hole in F’s hand. Gerald laughs as he puts his gun away.
Gerald Kingston: You think the police will come save you? Did you see the police come save the couple in your hand? I shot them myself and yes, destroyed their bodies in the fires. The police of Bankhead belong to Esmeralda.
F is on his knees, applying pressure to his hand to try desperately to staunch the bleeding. He’s crying in fear for he knows that they don’t intend to let him live through this confrontation. He’s crying in grief for he knows now for certain that Gerald likely killed ALL of those people who did not take the payout. He’s crying in anger for there is no one left to avenge the dead.
Esmeralda lights an Egyptian cigarette on the end of a gold and white foot long holder. She takes in a hit off of the imported vice and blows the smoke into the air.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Dahling, are there any others? Are you working with others or are you alone?
F looks at Gerald, a fire blazing in his tear stricken face. Gerald just smiles as he looks back.
Gerald Kingston: Well? Answer the lady.
F: I will be avenged. The others will replace me.
Esmeralda watches F for a time as if examining a piece of fine art.
Esmeralda von Krauss: He is lying, of course. Gerald, kill him.
Gerald draws out his gun to shoot F, but F is already on the move. He spears Gerald, slamming him against the wall and knocking the gun from his hand. F backs up and hits a roundhouse kick that sends Gerald back against the wall. F continues with the offensive, hitting a neck breaker.
Gerald stands back up quickly and strikes out at F with his right hand, but F ducks under it, chopping Gerald in the side of the neck. He grabs Gerald with both hands and tosses him away in what could have been a body slam that just throws Gerald like a rag doll.
Gerald is a little slower to get up, wiping blood from his chin from where he had bitten his tongue.
Gerald Kingston: I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.
Gerald rushes at F, who merely hip tosses him…through the window. F goes back to applying reassure to his hand for a moment as he looks out through the shattered window at the fallen Gerald Kingston.
F: Mind the fall. We are eight stories up.
F turns to face Esmeralda von Krauss. He grabs Gerald’s gun from the floor, brings it up to aim, and an upholstery needle flies right at him. It enters his left eye and goes in so deep that an inch of the needle comes out the back of his skull. F drops the gun, his hands reflexively going up to his destroyed eye. The fact that he isn’t dead now is some kind of miracle.
F: My eye! Oh god!
Esmeralda walks over to F and grabs him. She whips him across the room where he lands in his easy chair in a seated position. The chair starts to fall backwards as if it were going to tip over, but then lands back on all fours.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Are we going to have to raise the volume of the tv so that your neighbors aren’t disturbed, dahling? Well, more than they already were since there was the gunshot.
F: Please don’t kill me.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Oh, dahling. It is the fate of all would be heroes that they should die at the end of their journey. You attempted to fill D’s shoes and were found lacking. You killed Gerald so you maybe had some skills, but not enough.
F looks at Esmeralda through his good eye, his breathing slowing as he accepts his fate to come.
F: I am the new Bankhead Boogeyman. I have stopped robberies. I have stopped rapes. I have stopped murders.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Of course you are, dahling. Of course you are. I’m sure D will find it touching that you carried on his legacy in his name…when he finds you.
F raises his hands as if to deflect the blow coming in from the blonde woman and with a flick of her wrist it is over. His hands drop to his lap, another upholstery needle having struck through his other eye. Esmeralda reclaims her weapons of choice and gets out her smart phone as she walks toward the exit of the apartment.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Gerald is dead on the street. Get him cleaned up and inform his second.
She hangs up the phone and stops at the doorway for a moment. She smiles and walks over to where F’s phone is laying on the floor. She picks it up and dials a number.
Man: Hello? Who is this?
Esmeralda hangs up the phone and checks to make sure that location services are on before placing the phone in F’s lap.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Will you be able to keep your vow, D?
She giggles as she walks out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.
It’s unlikely that the neighborhood has seen so many moving vans in one place ever. Several apartment buildings that had been vacated are now being filled by families. The apartment buildings seem as if they are being refilled all at once.
Though all of them are being observed from the shadows.
A young couple is watching from the side as movers bring in their furniture and other belongings in boxes into their apartment. A young man in a red t-shirt with the letter “F” on it and jeans with a black jacket. His face is painted up to look like…”D”. He walks up to the couple with a picture in hand.
F: Excuse me, but have you seen these people around here?
The picture is of a couple that used to live at the apartment building that the new couple is moving into.
F: I know that many of the old residents had their leases paid off, but not this couple. They had nowhere to go. They didn’t want to leave the place they called home. They have since vanished. With the dumpster fires that raged for the past few weeks, I fear the worst.
The young couple look at the picture for a moment before shaking their heads to indicate that they have not seen the other couple. F appears saddened by the news, but then eyes the next family waiting by a moving truck to go ask. As he goes to leave, the woman stops him.
Woman: If you don’t mind my asking. What does “F” mean?
F looks down at his shirt, tracing the letter with his free hand.
F: You know how you type F for respect? It’s that. These people and more might be dead. Who will remember them? Who will respect the fact that they are missing? I will be their champion. I will become the new Bankhead Boogeyman.
Woman: Oh. I see. You have a number in case we see these…people?
F: Yeah.
F gives the woman his number and moves on to the next family with his picture. The young woman looks to the young man with the number in hand. The young man nods and sends a text message containing the cell phone number so given.
Hours later, F is several blocks away from where the neighborhood is being replenished. He’s at his own apartment and looks out through the window, watching as burnt out dumpsters are replaced by even more moving vans. There was at least one family per building that had gone missing though it was hard to keep track of who went where when most families were paid off to find someplace to live with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Not everyone wanted or could do a clean slate like that.
The question in F’s mind was simple. Where was the original Bankhead Boogeyman? Where was D? He was up North in Canada and being NPW’s Openweight Champion. As if some wrestling career were more important than the lives he should have been saving here.
F sighs and heads to his easy chair and turns on the news. There is a report on how the neighborhood of Bankhead is moving up with many apartment buildings being replaced by well to do families, but nothing about those missing. Not a word.
Before the news is finished, F is asleep in his chair with his remote control in his lap. Hours go by and F nearly leaps out of his chair when there is a pounding at the door. He gets up from his chair, knocking the remote control to the floor. He contemplates picking it up, but the pounding at the door continues. He walks toward the door to answer it when he walks past his kitchen and sees that his refrigerator door is open. He stops in his tracks when he sees a feminine hand on the top of the door, but doesn’t see who it belongs to. There’s a crazy provocative scent in the air that evokes vanilla, sandalwood, and other things that he can’t quite identify.
F opens his mouth to speak, but then nearly jumps out of his skin at the pounding at the door.
A woman’s voice speaks up as F stares with wide eyes at who could be in his apartment without him having known.
Woman: You wouldn’t have sprung for some Fillico have you, dahling? I mean I do prefer Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani. It makes Fillico seem like tap water, you know, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The fridge door is closed, revealing Esmeralda von Krauss as she stands up tall in the kitchen in a shimmering green dress that must have hundreds of gemstones and diamonds upon it. She bats her eyes at F before motioning to the door.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Answer the door, dahling. If you cannot supply a woman with a most refined water, the least you can do as host is answer the door.
F: Umm…right.
F walks over to the door and opens it to reveal Gerald Kingston, head of security for the project that has been ongoing in Bankhead. F backs away from the door, allowing Gerald to walk into the apartment.
F: What…what is the meaning of this? I’ve done nothing wrong!
Esmeralda giggles lightly at Fs protests and dismisses him with a wave.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Oh, F. You do go on. You’ve been questioning my people for days to try to find people that simply don’t exist.
F: I was just watching tv…
Gerald Kingston: You still have your face paint on. We have pictures of you talking to the people moving into those apartments.
F looks from Esmeralda to Gerald, backing up into his living room where he grabs a picture from the table by his easy chair. He waves the picture of a couple in front of them.
F: You killed these people! I will stop you from doing…whatever it is you’re doing!
Gerald Kingston walks over to the window that F had been looking out of. He sees the moving vans and the couple of remaining burnt out dumpsters.
Gerald Kingston: How far are we up, F?
F: Eight stories?
Gerald Kingston: It’s a nice view of the neighborhood. We are improving this area. There are fewer raps, robberies, mugging, burglaries, and whatever you poor people do to each other. These new families are well to do. They will watch out for one another. Bankhead will no longer be the shame of Atlanta. I’m sure you've seen it on the news.
F: All done at the expense of lives! If D were here-
Esmeralda von Krauss: He would do nothing, dahling. He is sworn to do nothing.
F: Why would he do such a thing?
Esmeralda von Krauss: Why indeed? He has his fortune and glory at long last. He may even turn his current glory into one that drives at the heart of Lord Dominicus to become the best champion that the NPW has ever seen. Why would he not swear to not interfere in exchange for blessings from the wrestling world that he so idolizes?
F looks from Esmeralda to Gerald, looking more and more desperate as they stare at him. He raises his fists.
F: I’ll…I’ll fight you! I am the new Bankhead Boogeyman after all.
Esmeralda von Krauss: How many mugging have you stopped, dahling? How many would be sexual predators have you brought down? I am the reason that crime has gone down in Bankhead. I have driven the filth from this neighborhood. No, you seek out people who don’t even exist.
F holds aloft the picture in his hand like it were a holy symbol driving off an ancient vampire.
F: They existed! They lived! You had them killed for not moving and…burned their corpses with their belongings. I’m calling the police!
F grabs his cell phone from his chair side table, but a gunshot passes through F’s hand. The phone falls to the floor and blood sprays from the hole in F’s hand. Gerald laughs as he puts his gun away.
Gerald Kingston: You think the police will come save you? Did you see the police come save the couple in your hand? I shot them myself and yes, destroyed their bodies in the fires. The police of Bankhead belong to Esmeralda.
F is on his knees, applying pressure to his hand to try desperately to staunch the bleeding. He’s crying in fear for he knows that they don’t intend to let him live through this confrontation. He’s crying in grief for he knows now for certain that Gerald likely killed ALL of those people who did not take the payout. He’s crying in anger for there is no one left to avenge the dead.
Esmeralda lights an Egyptian cigarette on the end of a gold and white foot long holder. She takes in a hit off of the imported vice and blows the smoke into the air.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Dahling, are there any others? Are you working with others or are you alone?
F looks at Gerald, a fire blazing in his tear stricken face. Gerald just smiles as he looks back.
Gerald Kingston: Well? Answer the lady.
F: I will be avenged. The others will replace me.
Esmeralda watches F for a time as if examining a piece of fine art.
Esmeralda von Krauss: He is lying, of course. Gerald, kill him.
Gerald draws out his gun to shoot F, but F is already on the move. He spears Gerald, slamming him against the wall and knocking the gun from his hand. F backs up and hits a roundhouse kick that sends Gerald back against the wall. F continues with the offensive, hitting a neck breaker.
Gerald stands back up quickly and strikes out at F with his right hand, but F ducks under it, chopping Gerald in the side of the neck. He grabs Gerald with both hands and tosses him away in what could have been a body slam that just throws Gerald like a rag doll.
Gerald is a little slower to get up, wiping blood from his chin from where he had bitten his tongue.
Gerald Kingston: I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.
Gerald rushes at F, who merely hip tosses him…through the window. F goes back to applying reassure to his hand for a moment as he looks out through the shattered window at the fallen Gerald Kingston.
F: Mind the fall. We are eight stories up.
F turns to face Esmeralda von Krauss. He grabs Gerald’s gun from the floor, brings it up to aim, and an upholstery needle flies right at him. It enters his left eye and goes in so deep that an inch of the needle comes out the back of his skull. F drops the gun, his hands reflexively going up to his destroyed eye. The fact that he isn’t dead now is some kind of miracle.
F: My eye! Oh god!
Esmeralda walks over to F and grabs him. She whips him across the room where he lands in his easy chair in a seated position. The chair starts to fall backwards as if it were going to tip over, but then lands back on all fours.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Are we going to have to raise the volume of the tv so that your neighbors aren’t disturbed, dahling? Well, more than they already were since there was the gunshot.
F: Please don’t kill me.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Oh, dahling. It is the fate of all would be heroes that they should die at the end of their journey. You attempted to fill D’s shoes and were found lacking. You killed Gerald so you maybe had some skills, but not enough.
F looks at Esmeralda through his good eye, his breathing slowing as he accepts his fate to come.
F: I am the new Bankhead Boogeyman. I have stopped robberies. I have stopped rapes. I have stopped murders.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Of course you are, dahling. Of course you are. I’m sure D will find it touching that you carried on his legacy in his name…when he finds you.
F raises his hands as if to deflect the blow coming in from the blonde woman and with a flick of her wrist it is over. His hands drop to his lap, another upholstery needle having struck through his other eye. Esmeralda reclaims her weapons of choice and gets out her smart phone as she walks toward the exit of the apartment.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Gerald is dead on the street. Get him cleaned up and inform his second.
She hangs up the phone and stops at the doorway for a moment. She smiles and walks over to where F’s phone is laying on the floor. She picks it up and dials a number.
Man: Hello? Who is this?
Esmeralda hangs up the phone and checks to make sure that location services are on before placing the phone in F’s lap.
Esmeralda von Krauss: Will you be able to keep your vow, D?
She giggles as she walks out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.
