Post by Mike D. Greaser on Apr 18, 2008 0:00:29 GMT -5
Trees and landscape rolled by in a haze as the train passed on. He looked out the window, letting his eyes flow back and forth with the moving land. The lights of his compartment flickered. He switched his gaze to the ceiling, letting his eyes roam over the compartment he sat in. The wall paper was torn and cracked. Dust covered the seat beside him. It looked less than homely. True, it wasn't the nicest way to travel, but at least he was getting somewhere.
Two years. Two years to this day. It had been two years since he'd been betrayed. Two years since everything he worked for came crashing down around him. Two years since he fled. Two years can do a lot to a person. Two years can change a person. For better or for worse.
He thought back to the horrible boat trip he just experienced. The ocean reminded him of his life, for a few moments it would be steady and gentle. But then one wave would antagonize another, making both crash. The antagonizing wave would get away, and the other would flee away from it. Then, the antagonizing wave would come back with more, making it nearly impossible for the other to fight back. Eventually, the wave being attacked would go far, far away from the others.
He looked out the windows, the hills rolled by along with the trees. A few rock and stones would pass by as well. He leaned his head against the back of his seat, a rush of boredom flowing over his body. He sighed, wishing he had some sort of book to read or something to do.
The train jerked to a stop, waking him from his sleep. He'd been sleeping? Funny how someone can fall asleep and not even know it. The train conductor strolled by, screaming at the top of his lungs. Time to get off the train. He gathered his luggage, sending a glare at the screaming man.. Also funny how someone can be so annoying and not even know it.
Hurriedly, he made his way off the train. He didn't know if he could stand much more of these blasted people. He came to the conclusion that train rides made everything worse. Made everyone more jumpy and on edge, and made him more angry.
With relief and excitement, he jumped of the train. His feet hit the pavement with a thud. He took a step forward. The sound of footsteps against cobblestone rang through his ears. It was so familiar, yet so strange. Deep breaths. Calming, deep breaths. He was here. He was here, and would have his revenge.
He looked around. Same as he remembered it. Dirty. Smokey. Humid. And just all around disgusting. Bloody Americans. Can't keep a small thing like this clean. A train station for God's sake. How bloody hard was it to keep a train station clean?
He shook his head to clear these thoughts. This didn't matter now. All that mattered now was getting back to a normal life. After traveling for months, he was ready for a day or two of relaxation.
First on his agenda: find the apartment. Their family used to live in an apartment, right between the border of Brooklyn and Manhattan. He loved this apartment for two reasons. One: it was very cheap. Two: he could keep an eye on Manhattan and Brooklyn. Anything that would help him with his plan made him happy.
Only minutes later he found his apartment. Check. Problem one taken care off. A feeling of tranquility swept over him and he sighed. This was going to be a piece of pie. He could do this and he would do this. A bloody piece of pie. He couldn't help but smile.
His stomach growled. He looked down and smirked. 'I know, love, your hungry.' Second on his agenda: food. That was quite important to him. He hadn't eaten forever. The bloody train ride didn't serve food.
He raised his gaze from his stomach. Food. Where to find some decent food in this bloody town. Before he knew it, his feet traveled to a well known spot. Tibby's. Many times he'd been here with his friends.
Friends? Could he even call them that? More like people who only enjoyed his company when he was giving them something in return. No. He couldn't call them friends. More like back stabbing, lying, cheating, bas-
He stopped himself. If he let these thoughts linger who knew what he would do. He was learning how to control his anger, for now. There would be plenty of time for anger and hatred later. But right now he needed food.
His eyes traveled back to Tibby's. A smirk played at the corners of his lips. Sitting, no more than 20 feet from him, were the people he hated. The people he despised. The dumb, stupid people who had no idea what was coming. Jack and his newsies. They were completely oblivious to him, in their own happy world. He could hear their laughter and feel the warmth from their bodies. A chill went down his spine as he thought of all of this being stripped away from them in, what he hoped, a few months. He would be doing the stripping and they would be helpless, powerless to it all. They'd been in this position before. He missed it.
Why so silent, good messieurs?
He could barge in on them now. Let them all know what was coming. But what would be the fun in that? No. He would make them wonder, make them ponder. He would ween his way into their little happy, pathetic lives. He would gain their trust. Then, and only then, would he crush them. He would take everything that they held dear to them. Everything.
Again, before he knew it, his feet brought him to another restaurant. He was seated and had food in a flash. He hardly noticed. The hatred bubbled inside him, keeping him busy.
He blamed the newsies for his parents death. Who else? He had no one else to blame. He had no proof, but simply a gut feeling. He had nothing. And that he blamed on the newsies.
Did you think that I had left you for good?
Did they think he was just going to leave? Did they think he was going to let them have the last word? Did they think he was going down without a fight?
Bloody fools.
Have you missed me, good messieurs?
Of course they have! He was their only excitement in their lives. He made their lifes.... interesting. He gave them action. He gave them something to dread. He gave them something to hate. He made their lives worth while. In fact, these last two years, they must have been suffering. Poor fools. Poor, bloody fools.
He would crush them. Destroy them. Break them. Another chill went down his spine. He wished he could speed up the next few weeks. He wanted to kill them all now! But, he knew he had to wait. And he would.
Fondest greetings to you all.
He grinned. He was back. He was Mike D. Greaser and was back for his revenge.
Fondest bloody greetings to you all.
{Wow, long. Anyway, this post is closed for a few reasons. I don't want everyone to know about Mike right away. So, please PM or wait for me to PM you. Thanks!}
Two years. Two years to this day. It had been two years since he'd been betrayed. Two years since everything he worked for came crashing down around him. Two years since he fled. Two years can do a lot to a person. Two years can change a person. For better or for worse.
He thought back to the horrible boat trip he just experienced. The ocean reminded him of his life, for a few moments it would be steady and gentle. But then one wave would antagonize another, making both crash. The antagonizing wave would get away, and the other would flee away from it. Then, the antagonizing wave would come back with more, making it nearly impossible for the other to fight back. Eventually, the wave being attacked would go far, far away from the others.
He looked out the windows, the hills rolled by along with the trees. A few rock and stones would pass by as well. He leaned his head against the back of his seat, a rush of boredom flowing over his body. He sighed, wishing he had some sort of book to read or something to do.
The train jerked to a stop, waking him from his sleep. He'd been sleeping? Funny how someone can fall asleep and not even know it. The train conductor strolled by, screaming at the top of his lungs. Time to get off the train. He gathered his luggage, sending a glare at the screaming man.. Also funny how someone can be so annoying and not even know it.
Hurriedly, he made his way off the train. He didn't know if he could stand much more of these blasted people. He came to the conclusion that train rides made everything worse. Made everyone more jumpy and on edge, and made him more angry.
With relief and excitement, he jumped of the train. His feet hit the pavement with a thud. He took a step forward. The sound of footsteps against cobblestone rang through his ears. It was so familiar, yet so strange. Deep breaths. Calming, deep breaths. He was here. He was here, and would have his revenge.
He looked around. Same as he remembered it. Dirty. Smokey. Humid. And just all around disgusting. Bloody Americans. Can't keep a small thing like this clean. A train station for God's sake. How bloody hard was it to keep a train station clean?
He shook his head to clear these thoughts. This didn't matter now. All that mattered now was getting back to a normal life. After traveling for months, he was ready for a day or two of relaxation.
First on his agenda: find the apartment. Their family used to live in an apartment, right between the border of Brooklyn and Manhattan. He loved this apartment for two reasons. One: it was very cheap. Two: he could keep an eye on Manhattan and Brooklyn. Anything that would help him with his plan made him happy.
Only minutes later he found his apartment. Check. Problem one taken care off. A feeling of tranquility swept over him and he sighed. This was going to be a piece of pie. He could do this and he would do this. A bloody piece of pie. He couldn't help but smile.
His stomach growled. He looked down and smirked. 'I know, love, your hungry.' Second on his agenda: food. That was quite important to him. He hadn't eaten forever. The bloody train ride didn't serve food.
He raised his gaze from his stomach. Food. Where to find some decent food in this bloody town. Before he knew it, his feet traveled to a well known spot. Tibby's. Many times he'd been here with his friends.
Friends? Could he even call them that? More like people who only enjoyed his company when he was giving them something in return. No. He couldn't call them friends. More like back stabbing, lying, cheating, bas-
He stopped himself. If he let these thoughts linger who knew what he would do. He was learning how to control his anger, for now. There would be plenty of time for anger and hatred later. But right now he needed food.
His eyes traveled back to Tibby's. A smirk played at the corners of his lips. Sitting, no more than 20 feet from him, were the people he hated. The people he despised. The dumb, stupid people who had no idea what was coming. Jack and his newsies. They were completely oblivious to him, in their own happy world. He could hear their laughter and feel the warmth from their bodies. A chill went down his spine as he thought of all of this being stripped away from them in, what he hoped, a few months. He would be doing the stripping and they would be helpless, powerless to it all. They'd been in this position before. He missed it.
Why so silent, good messieurs?
He could barge in on them now. Let them all know what was coming. But what would be the fun in that? No. He would make them wonder, make them ponder. He would ween his way into their little happy, pathetic lives. He would gain their trust. Then, and only then, would he crush them. He would take everything that they held dear to them. Everything.
Again, before he knew it, his feet brought him to another restaurant. He was seated and had food in a flash. He hardly noticed. The hatred bubbled inside him, keeping him busy.
He blamed the newsies for his parents death. Who else? He had no one else to blame. He had no proof, but simply a gut feeling. He had nothing. And that he blamed on the newsies.
Did you think that I had left you for good?
Did they think he was just going to leave? Did they think he was going to let them have the last word? Did they think he was going down without a fight?
Bloody fools.
Have you missed me, good messieurs?
Of course they have! He was their only excitement in their lives. He made their lifes.... interesting. He gave them action. He gave them something to dread. He gave them something to hate. He made their lives worth while. In fact, these last two years, they must have been suffering. Poor fools. Poor, bloody fools.
He would crush them. Destroy them. Break them. Another chill went down his spine. He wished he could speed up the next few weeks. He wanted to kill them all now! But, he knew he had to wait. And he would.
Fondest greetings to you all.
He grinned. He was back. He was Mike D. Greaser and was back for his revenge.
Fondest bloody greetings to you all.
{Wow, long. Anyway, this post is closed for a few reasons. I don't want everyone to know about Mike right away. So, please PM or wait for me to PM you. Thanks!}
