Post by John Cable on Nov 5, 2022 12:27:56 GMT -5
Thick gnarled fingers pull tight the black laces of a green and black HOKA running shoe. The scars twist around the knobby knuckles and run jagged lines across the stretches of taunt skin between the bulbs of bone.
A black brush runs through a long, straight gray beard as the buzzer of a coffee pot goes off in the background.
Dark, steaming liquid pours from a glass spouted pot into a tall black travel mug as the familiar clanking change sounds of Pink Floyd's 'Money' sounds off before the bass guitar riff plays from nearby.
“Hey man... Yeah, I'll be there this afternoon. I was just headed out for the morning routine.” John's voice drifts in from somewhere nearby.
After a minute, the sound of keys jangling shatters the silence and the coffee mug is whisked away as we hear John's side of the conversation end.
“I definitely will not miss lunch, and no... a shark will not eat me. I might run into some piranha given my recent luck, but I'll do my best to not get hurt too bad. I promise. See you at 11.” He laughs as he ends the call and a flash of him is seen closing a heavy oak door behind him before the scene transitions with the TIA Event 5 Logo.
The scene opens as it pans across a bright orange sunrise at the picturesque Jacksonville Beach. The long, sun bleached pier stretches out into the surf on concrete pylons a quarter mile, and is already beginning to draw the morning fishermen along the edges claiming their lucky spots. As the camera pans back across the beach and over a dune wall, a dark matte gray 1985 Jeep Wrangler pulls off of the road nearby, and into a small parking lot. The whole frame is stripped down... no roof, no doors, no windows, no cage... and inside, crawling out of one of the two bucket seats, we see John Cable.
He raises his arms over his head and grabs his wrists before stretching as far as he can reach. The muscles in his arms ripple and he exhales and pulls first one way then the other against his own resistance.
As he takes his shoes off, a man begins to walk towards him from the street not far away. He's middling in height, dusky brown haired, a bit shaggy and unkempt, wearing a dingy button up shirt and a pair of not entirely clean jeans. As he gets closer, his foot shuffles in some gravel and it makes a sharp noise in the silence of the morning across the beach.
“Morning, Gary. Did you find anything good last night?” John asks over his shoulder as the man shuffles towards him slowly.
“Naw. Not las' night. T'hotha night I fount'a whole cooler full'a food som'oned lef'up'ere by a dune tho. Me'an Dave gave some ta som'a dem up der by ta' gas station, but we ate good, fur'shur. Had da last a'it dis mornin'. How'as yer trip?” the man asked in a heavy southern drawl as he made his way over to the Jeep.
“Not great. Been trying to get back to right after the last Brawl to be honest. Just glad to be back so I can get back to my normal routine I guess. A good routine will help me get back to one-hundred before next Monday, so...” John answers with a smile as he hands him the large cup of coffee.
“Well, I shor am glad'ta see ya' dis mornin'. Have a good swim, John. Seeya' in'a coupla' hours.” the man says as he unpacks a bundle in the passenger seat of the Jeep. From it, he yanks a yoga mat rolled up nice and tight, and a sleeping bag as well. He tosses the mat down in the back of the Jeep before unrolling the sleeping bag on top of it, and climbing into the Jeep over the sidewall.
“I'll do my best, Gary. Have a good nap, OK? See you in a bit.” John answers as he takes his tee shirt off and lays it in the front seat, and disappears over the dune towards the ocean as Gary snuggles into the makeshift bed in the back of John's Jeep undisturbed and safe as the scene pans back up towards the Sun. In a brilliant flash of sunlight, the scene transitions once more, this time to the WSOW Logo.
The scene opens again in an eerily lonely hallway. The floor is an endless swath of wide white linoleum tiles with gray mottle splotches. Wood grain panels run the length of the right wall, and half glass walls run the length of the left interspersed at regular intervals by a plain wooden door with a single long, narrow window. Most of the rooms are dark, and the long fluorescent bulb lights running down the center of the ceiling cast a fuzzy bright white light with a few flickering shadows where ballasts are weak. The hallway is clean, but sterile and untouched by decoration.
A few moments later, a door opens part way down the hallway and Johnathan Cable emerges from the room into the passageway in a sleek pair of black track pants and a TIA New Breed Foundation tee shirt. Behind him, several men emerge into the hallway and sort of mill about for a moment before Cable turns to the group.
“We had a good meeting today, guys. You're stronger than you think you are, and I think you all know it. Ben... keep your head up. It's not your fault, and you will grow in this situation to be a better man. Compassion and understanding others is sometimes a tough lesson to learn from our trials, but together, we can help you. Each and every one of us knows how lonely it can feel in your situation, but you are not alone. Look around. You have found new friends who understand you and can help you find your voice again. I'm glad you came tonight, and I hope you come back next week.” He nods at a young man to the left of the group. His short dark hair is cropped in a military cut and he nods slowly at John's words while looking at the floor.
John steps towards him and gently lifts his chin with his fingers.
“Seriously, keep your head up, Ben. There's no shame in surviving to live your life after being abused. You are not less for having been a victim. None of us are lesser men for being taken advantage of, and neither are you. You're going to become better, and you are going to thrive into the life you were meant to live. We will help you.” he says softly as the group of men huddle closer together and all hug Ben as a mob of caring supporters.
“You are not alone.” the group says in unison softly as Ben smiles finally.
After cordial goodbyes and well wishes, the men start to disperse along the hallway off to their lives away from the meeting, some leaving in small groups, and others wandering away alone to find their cars or walk to the nearby bus stop. The camera pans down the hallway towards the room before fading out on a scene of the paper sign hanging outside the meeting room door.
Male Domestic Support Group – 6pm
The scene transitions across the This Is Awesome Logo before the sound of tires on gravel cuts the silence and the scene fades from black to a small copse of trees next to a lush hill that rolls down to a small babbling creek running slowly under a small stone bridge walkway. Dotting the hillside in the waning light of day are rows of headstones and bouquets of flowers in a myriad of colors. Small brass urns sit near some of the grave markers, and a small bunch of rainbow metallic balloons is tied to an elaborate cross made of granite in the distance. Flags dot the graves of fallen heroes, and next to a small angel headstone sits a stuffed teddy bear. On the far side of the hill, a single story white marble mausoleum sits quietly overlooking the stream below, and a slate gray Jeep pulls up out front, and parks near the wrought iron doorway.
John steps out of the Jeep and takes a small bouquet of white lily of the valley from the passenger seat, and makes his way inside still in his track pants and tee shirt from the meeting earlier. He passes by several name plates near the doorway, but makes his way deeper inside. Near the back of the marble room he stops before a nameplate on the wall, and lays the flowers on a small shelf outcropping.
Jessica Cable
He touches the brass plate gingerly with his finger tips before turning away and moving even further into the room. He glances over his shoulder once at the resting place of his late wife, and then sadly turns to the back wall of the mausoleum.
“Hey, Dad.” John starts with a tremble in his voice as he runs his fingers over the smooth swirls of gray laced in the stark white stone of the wall.
Hank Winthrop
Champion
Father
Mentor
Warrior
The other walls here were lined with plates and shelves for others interned here, but this wall was reserved for just one. Along either side of the brass plaque with John's adopted father on it were framed photos of the late champion with various celebrities and famous fighters from around the world.
“Been a weird few weeks... but I'm still here, but you knew that.” he chuckles to himself in the dim light as he slumps down to the floor back against the wall.
“I've got a lot of things on my plate right now, but I guess nothing new there, huh? Always seems like there's a fight around every corner and there's no rest for the wicked, right?” John sighs.
“The world doesn't make a whole lot of sense anymore, but yet, here I am... struggling to deliver hope to the people who need it most. Greed and agendas are all they care about anymore, and who they can step on to get ahead... but I haven't forgotten what you taught me... what you showed me... how you raised me... and I won't slow down now. You never did... and those who were fortunate enough to know you, were better for it.” he says as the last rays of the dying sunlight finally succumb to the horizon and the room is washed in shadows.
“I know the hard road is the one we're meant to travel, and no fight worth fighting was ever easy. I know...” he snorts a small laugh at himself in the dark as he sits against the cold stone wall.
“Trust me... nothing was easy when you were here, and things haven't gotten any easier since... since I lost you.” he says sadly.
“The best I can do is just remember all the things you tried to instill in me, and keep the legacy you built alive the best I can. I know you never wanted to do the International Trade Agreement thing... but the Foundation has done a lot of good for a lot of people now, and without you, it never would have had a chance to see the light of day. I just hope you're proud of me...” he says softly before getting to his feet and brushing off his pants.
“The world needs more men like you were, Dad. It's not better for your loss... and you deserved better than you got, but you know that already too... don't you?” he says before he turns towards the doorway and makes his way outside as the scene fades to black.