Post by Vincent Augustine on Feb 10, 2019 13:09:09 GMT -5
FEBRUARY 8th 2019
Waves crashed against the South Carolina beach, pulling sand back out to sea with them. The breeze off the water was chilling, that bone chilling cold if you didn’t have the right clothes on. Jayson and Vincent sat on a bench at the top of the sand staring off into the distance, neither man speaking, only sitting. After minutes of silence between the two, Vincent broke it.
“I knew this guy in England, real community involved help the world kind of guy, ran a nonprofit out of his house, something about giving back to orphaned children. People loved the guy, and who wouldn’t, he even got elected to some political thing, but that was the surface for him. He would help the kids out you know, give them a place to live, get them on their feet, but then they would disappear. He told the world it was because they were going on to great jobs in other places, their lives expanding upon the world of being orphans.” Vincent paused for a little bit.
“Reality was he sold the women into sex trafficking, and the boys, well they were sold to be slave labor for wealthy, or worse. He was the quintessential asshole if you ask me, a man who veiled his desire to make himself rich and profitable with that of helping those in need.” Vincent leaned back on the bench, stretched his back and looked around, he saw what he needed, the small black Lincoln just on the other end of the mostly empty parking lot. “Remind you of anyone?” He casually asked, returning to a more natural seated position on the bench.
“Yeah, it does.” Jayson replied, annoyed by the story. Two weeks now, and for two weeks he had been listening to the riddles of Vincent, a man who had a story for every god damn situation. One might think that Vincent had seen or done damn near everything in this life, and yet he was a middling still trying to find his place wrestler a year after joining WCF.
“I have heard people like these called ssychopaths.” Vincent paused for a moment to take in the physical response from Jayson, there was none. “People have been known to confuse psychopaths with Sociopaths. See psychopaths are intelligent, charming, and good at mimicking emotions, they pretend to be interested in you but in reality they don’t care. Whereas a sociopaths make it plain that they are not interested in anyone but themselves, often blaming others and having excuses for their actions.”
“So we have to fight a psychopath this week.” Jayson said rather matter of factly. “Crazy is as crazy does, violent is as violent can be.” Jayson said.
“Common misconception there. Psychopaths are cold hearted schemers, always thinking about what they are going to do, and how they can get it done, they just don’t care who they hurt or step on. Their path to the endgame in their mind is the only thing important. So make no mistake, everything we encounter in that ring with Rabid will be calculated, and meant to have purpose. He will be like every other wrestler in this business; he will tell us to look left, while what he is really plotting will be right. We have to be ever mindful of this, and know what he intends before he intends to do it.” Vincent stopped and turned to Jayson who seemed to be pondering what he said.
“So basically be ever aware of what John is doing? Seems simple enough, he loves to tell the world what he is doing.” Jayson stopped for a moment and smiled. “But that is what you mean, he’s trying to make everyone go one way, and that’s why he tells the world what he does, what we need to do is go the other way, look at what he is not saying.” A small chuckle escaped Jayson as he thought about it even more.
“Precisely.” Vincent let out a big smile. “Back in California I knew this kid, 17 year old boy, captain of the football team, quarterback, primed to get the big scholarship to some major college. He was everything you wanted out of the All American High School athlete, and everything that you expected.” Vincent grabbed a bit of sand off the ground and held it in his hand, letting it flow out of the bottom of his fist and be carried away by the breeze.
“He bragged a little, always said the right things, even played that role of hero, sticking up for the kids who everyone picked on. For Christ sake he was a math Tudor and almost graduated valedictorian. But things went off the rails for him, like all good clean cut heroes, he hurt his knee, had surgery and lost his scholarships. He faded off into memory as nothing more than a man with tremendous promise, another casualty of life.” Leaning back Vincent stole another glance at the Lincoln still parked at the edge of the slowly filling parking lot.
“Sounds like Roy, all but the sad end to his career.” Jayson said.
“Yeah it does, but now put that with John Rabid, and think about how this plays out. Rabid sees Roy as nothing more than a way to get what he wants. He doesn’t care for Roy as a partner, he has no emotional investment in the man, and when he gets what he wants, or doesn’t, he will discard Roy like a used Kleenex.” Vincent said it all with so little emotion that one might think he was the one with no emotions or empathy.
“How does that help us?” Jayson asked.
“When you know what you face you can always find a way to exploit it. But there in lies the trick, we know our opponents, and now we have to use what we know to our advantage.” Vincent leaned forward on his knees. “The man in England had everything he cared about systematically taken from him, his world destroyed, and then only when all the money was gone did the world find out about his other sins. The boy from California tried to help a troubled youth who stole his stuff and ended up killing him.”
Jayson didn’t say anything; he just sat pondering what Vincent had said. One thing was for sure, Vincent did his homework, he knew how to look at things from a perspective different from others, and yet he never seemed to have the answer to the questions he would raise with his insight. It was like he wanted Jayson to have all the answers; he was just the man creating the questions.
“Do me a favor, sit here for five minutes, and then when the five minutes are over, head off; I’ll catch up with you later.” Vincent stood up and made his way for the bathroom. Like all bathrooms at beaches it was a filthy mess from the night before, the cleaners had not yet arrived. There were bikini bottoms and tops spread around the men’s room, used condoms on the floor, and shit filling the steel commodes, but Vincent didn’t need to use any of these as he made his way out the other end of the bathroom.
Moving quick Vincent kept his head down and circled around the parking lot, he could see Jayson still sitting on the bench clearly talking to himself, his hands flapping around, most likely considering what Vincent had told him. Vincent kept low, stayed behind cars and made his way over behind the black Lincoln, he could see the man in the front seat and immediately recognized him, Ryan, a former associate with his past life.
Sliding into the back seat Vincent smiled as Ryan spun around. “Really should lock the back doors.” Vincent said with a smile.
“Or are you where I want you?” Ryan asked.
“Naw, if you wanted me in your car you wouldn’t have waited for me to show up on my own and you would have made you presence much more obvious.” Vincent got more comfortable as Ryan tried to fix his position in the front seat to give him a chance should Vincent lash out. “What do you want?” Vincent asked.
“There is a lot of money invested in you; I have to make sure you don’t mess things up.” Ryan responded still trying to get himself in a more advantageous position.
“You say that as if I am on an op or something.” Vincent repositioned himself to maintain his advantage. “I’ve been out for two years, and would like to stay that way.”
Ryan simply laughed. “You think you are out? That’s rich Vincent, you know you are never out, if the agency wants you back, then you are back.”
“Is that why you are here? Because the agency wants me back?” Vincent asked with a sarcastic smile.
“No, you are classified as R.E.D. I’m simply your guardian, or more accurately the agencies contingency plan should you really pose a threat.” Ryan snapped back at Vincent.
“My how the mighty have fallen, from the top to babysitting duty, must have hurt when you reached the bottom of that fall. But you have nothing to worry about; I know what is expected of me.” Vincent let his smile fall as he turned to a more serious demeanor.
“Yeah, and yet you let Henry almost get all the information he could from you, thankfully that traitor has been dealt with and poses no more of a threat.” Ryan shifted to try and get a better tactical position.
“And to think everything I have found shows that someone else was pulling the strings, someone with high level knowledge of how to manipulate someone, someone with a skillset much similar to yours. It’s as if someone failed to use their source to get what they want and they cleaned up the loose ends, but then you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” Vincent posed the theory and question, Ryan’s face never flinching.
“You know I couldn’t speak upon that, it’s classified, just like his death. But then you know that is how it goes when someone so close to an ex operative dies under mysterious conditions. Thankfully the agency doesn’t suspect you in the death.” Ryan smiled, that knowing smile, filled with contempt.
“Follow my friends, hurt them, and I promise having me slip into the back of your car will be the last thing you have to worry about.” Vincent winked and opened the door, sliding out as fast as he slid in, giving Ryan no opportunity to respond.
“Is that a threat?” Ryan asked just as the door slammed shut. “FUCK!” Ryan yelled as he slapped the steering wheel. The train was running of the rails, and the agency was only going to put with his damn plan for so long before they terminated it, and in this case it would mean a huge career set back, this was his chance to move up, and it was crumbling before him.
Vincent glanced to the bench, Jayson was already gone, but the familiar white Impala was across the street, the old woman and her son in the front of it. He smiled, and scurried across the street slipping into the back of the Impala.
“You make friend over there? He no follow us anymore?” The woman asked.
“Old acquaintance, and we shall see, you keep me up to date on that last part.” Vincent sat back, the woman handing him a mug. “Herbal?”
“It’s green tea asshole, like always, good for body regularity.” She said with a smile and twinge of sarcasm in her voice. “You get big win last week. This Jayson guy and you work good together, no?”
“Yeah we seem to get along.” Vincent said as he took a sip of his coffee.
“You too look like happy couple on bench all morning, only missing hold hands and kiss.” The woman and her son laughed as she made the comment.
“Real mature.” Vincent replied.
“Says man who roll around and fight people for living.” The old woman quipped back.
“Do you have anything for me this week?” Vincent asked, trying to change the subject.
“Big scary CIA man uncomfortable with gay jokes, don’t tell world, they will find your kryptonite.” More laughter from the old woman and her son.
“Kryptonite is a bit of an overstatement, and it’s not a lack of comfort but more a desire to not listen to it at the moment. It’s the bread and butter of jokes that people in my line of work make, and well I hear enough at work to last a life time. Besides you are better than that, so why sink to that level?” Vincent replied as he took another swig of the tea.
“We got this for you.” The woman turned more serious as she slipped a brown envelope into the back seat. “Figured you might like to know what your friend in the Lincoln is really up to.”
Vincent took the envelope, finished the tea and handed the cup back to the woman. “By the way that tea makes my piss stink.” The woman laughed in response and Vincent slipped out of the back of the car, tucking the envelope into his jacket and walking off along the sidewalk, he had work to do, and things were not aligned all around. But there was one thing that added up, and that was Jayson and Vincent = WIN!
Waves crashed against the South Carolina beach, pulling sand back out to sea with them. The breeze off the water was chilling, that bone chilling cold if you didn’t have the right clothes on. Jayson and Vincent sat on a bench at the top of the sand staring off into the distance, neither man speaking, only sitting. After minutes of silence between the two, Vincent broke it.
“I knew this guy in England, real community involved help the world kind of guy, ran a nonprofit out of his house, something about giving back to orphaned children. People loved the guy, and who wouldn’t, he even got elected to some political thing, but that was the surface for him. He would help the kids out you know, give them a place to live, get them on their feet, but then they would disappear. He told the world it was because they were going on to great jobs in other places, their lives expanding upon the world of being orphans.” Vincent paused for a little bit.
“Reality was he sold the women into sex trafficking, and the boys, well they were sold to be slave labor for wealthy, or worse. He was the quintessential asshole if you ask me, a man who veiled his desire to make himself rich and profitable with that of helping those in need.” Vincent leaned back on the bench, stretched his back and looked around, he saw what he needed, the small black Lincoln just on the other end of the mostly empty parking lot. “Remind you of anyone?” He casually asked, returning to a more natural seated position on the bench.
“Yeah, it does.” Jayson replied, annoyed by the story. Two weeks now, and for two weeks he had been listening to the riddles of Vincent, a man who had a story for every god damn situation. One might think that Vincent had seen or done damn near everything in this life, and yet he was a middling still trying to find his place wrestler a year after joining WCF.
“I have heard people like these called ssychopaths.” Vincent paused for a moment to take in the physical response from Jayson, there was none. “People have been known to confuse psychopaths with Sociopaths. See psychopaths are intelligent, charming, and good at mimicking emotions, they pretend to be interested in you but in reality they don’t care. Whereas a sociopaths make it plain that they are not interested in anyone but themselves, often blaming others and having excuses for their actions.”
“So we have to fight a psychopath this week.” Jayson said rather matter of factly. “Crazy is as crazy does, violent is as violent can be.” Jayson said.
“Common misconception there. Psychopaths are cold hearted schemers, always thinking about what they are going to do, and how they can get it done, they just don’t care who they hurt or step on. Their path to the endgame in their mind is the only thing important. So make no mistake, everything we encounter in that ring with Rabid will be calculated, and meant to have purpose. He will be like every other wrestler in this business; he will tell us to look left, while what he is really plotting will be right. We have to be ever mindful of this, and know what he intends before he intends to do it.” Vincent stopped and turned to Jayson who seemed to be pondering what he said.
“So basically be ever aware of what John is doing? Seems simple enough, he loves to tell the world what he is doing.” Jayson stopped for a moment and smiled. “But that is what you mean, he’s trying to make everyone go one way, and that’s why he tells the world what he does, what we need to do is go the other way, look at what he is not saying.” A small chuckle escaped Jayson as he thought about it even more.
“Precisely.” Vincent let out a big smile. “Back in California I knew this kid, 17 year old boy, captain of the football team, quarterback, primed to get the big scholarship to some major college. He was everything you wanted out of the All American High School athlete, and everything that you expected.” Vincent grabbed a bit of sand off the ground and held it in his hand, letting it flow out of the bottom of his fist and be carried away by the breeze.
“He bragged a little, always said the right things, even played that role of hero, sticking up for the kids who everyone picked on. For Christ sake he was a math Tudor and almost graduated valedictorian. But things went off the rails for him, like all good clean cut heroes, he hurt his knee, had surgery and lost his scholarships. He faded off into memory as nothing more than a man with tremendous promise, another casualty of life.” Leaning back Vincent stole another glance at the Lincoln still parked at the edge of the slowly filling parking lot.
“Sounds like Roy, all but the sad end to his career.” Jayson said.
“Yeah it does, but now put that with John Rabid, and think about how this plays out. Rabid sees Roy as nothing more than a way to get what he wants. He doesn’t care for Roy as a partner, he has no emotional investment in the man, and when he gets what he wants, or doesn’t, he will discard Roy like a used Kleenex.” Vincent said it all with so little emotion that one might think he was the one with no emotions or empathy.
“How does that help us?” Jayson asked.
“When you know what you face you can always find a way to exploit it. But there in lies the trick, we know our opponents, and now we have to use what we know to our advantage.” Vincent leaned forward on his knees. “The man in England had everything he cared about systematically taken from him, his world destroyed, and then only when all the money was gone did the world find out about his other sins. The boy from California tried to help a troubled youth who stole his stuff and ended up killing him.”
Jayson didn’t say anything; he just sat pondering what Vincent had said. One thing was for sure, Vincent did his homework, he knew how to look at things from a perspective different from others, and yet he never seemed to have the answer to the questions he would raise with his insight. It was like he wanted Jayson to have all the answers; he was just the man creating the questions.
“Do me a favor, sit here for five minutes, and then when the five minutes are over, head off; I’ll catch up with you later.” Vincent stood up and made his way for the bathroom. Like all bathrooms at beaches it was a filthy mess from the night before, the cleaners had not yet arrived. There were bikini bottoms and tops spread around the men’s room, used condoms on the floor, and shit filling the steel commodes, but Vincent didn’t need to use any of these as he made his way out the other end of the bathroom.
Moving quick Vincent kept his head down and circled around the parking lot, he could see Jayson still sitting on the bench clearly talking to himself, his hands flapping around, most likely considering what Vincent had told him. Vincent kept low, stayed behind cars and made his way over behind the black Lincoln, he could see the man in the front seat and immediately recognized him, Ryan, a former associate with his past life.
Sliding into the back seat Vincent smiled as Ryan spun around. “Really should lock the back doors.” Vincent said with a smile.
“Or are you where I want you?” Ryan asked.
“Naw, if you wanted me in your car you wouldn’t have waited for me to show up on my own and you would have made you presence much more obvious.” Vincent got more comfortable as Ryan tried to fix his position in the front seat to give him a chance should Vincent lash out. “What do you want?” Vincent asked.
“There is a lot of money invested in you; I have to make sure you don’t mess things up.” Ryan responded still trying to get himself in a more advantageous position.
“You say that as if I am on an op or something.” Vincent repositioned himself to maintain his advantage. “I’ve been out for two years, and would like to stay that way.”
Ryan simply laughed. “You think you are out? That’s rich Vincent, you know you are never out, if the agency wants you back, then you are back.”
“Is that why you are here? Because the agency wants me back?” Vincent asked with a sarcastic smile.
“No, you are classified as R.E.D. I’m simply your guardian, or more accurately the agencies contingency plan should you really pose a threat.” Ryan snapped back at Vincent.
“My how the mighty have fallen, from the top to babysitting duty, must have hurt when you reached the bottom of that fall. But you have nothing to worry about; I know what is expected of me.” Vincent let his smile fall as he turned to a more serious demeanor.
“Yeah, and yet you let Henry almost get all the information he could from you, thankfully that traitor has been dealt with and poses no more of a threat.” Ryan shifted to try and get a better tactical position.
“And to think everything I have found shows that someone else was pulling the strings, someone with high level knowledge of how to manipulate someone, someone with a skillset much similar to yours. It’s as if someone failed to use their source to get what they want and they cleaned up the loose ends, but then you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” Vincent posed the theory and question, Ryan’s face never flinching.
“You know I couldn’t speak upon that, it’s classified, just like his death. But then you know that is how it goes when someone so close to an ex operative dies under mysterious conditions. Thankfully the agency doesn’t suspect you in the death.” Ryan smiled, that knowing smile, filled with contempt.
“Follow my friends, hurt them, and I promise having me slip into the back of your car will be the last thing you have to worry about.” Vincent winked and opened the door, sliding out as fast as he slid in, giving Ryan no opportunity to respond.
“Is that a threat?” Ryan asked just as the door slammed shut. “FUCK!” Ryan yelled as he slapped the steering wheel. The train was running of the rails, and the agency was only going to put with his damn plan for so long before they terminated it, and in this case it would mean a huge career set back, this was his chance to move up, and it was crumbling before him.
Vincent glanced to the bench, Jayson was already gone, but the familiar white Impala was across the street, the old woman and her son in the front of it. He smiled, and scurried across the street slipping into the back of the Impala.
“You make friend over there? He no follow us anymore?” The woman asked.
“Old acquaintance, and we shall see, you keep me up to date on that last part.” Vincent sat back, the woman handing him a mug. “Herbal?”
“It’s green tea asshole, like always, good for body regularity.” She said with a smile and twinge of sarcasm in her voice. “You get big win last week. This Jayson guy and you work good together, no?”
“Yeah we seem to get along.” Vincent said as he took a sip of his coffee.
“You too look like happy couple on bench all morning, only missing hold hands and kiss.” The woman and her son laughed as she made the comment.
“Real mature.” Vincent replied.
“Says man who roll around and fight people for living.” The old woman quipped back.
“Do you have anything for me this week?” Vincent asked, trying to change the subject.
“Big scary CIA man uncomfortable with gay jokes, don’t tell world, they will find your kryptonite.” More laughter from the old woman and her son.
“Kryptonite is a bit of an overstatement, and it’s not a lack of comfort but more a desire to not listen to it at the moment. It’s the bread and butter of jokes that people in my line of work make, and well I hear enough at work to last a life time. Besides you are better than that, so why sink to that level?” Vincent replied as he took another swig of the tea.
“We got this for you.” The woman turned more serious as she slipped a brown envelope into the back seat. “Figured you might like to know what your friend in the Lincoln is really up to.”
Vincent took the envelope, finished the tea and handed the cup back to the woman. “By the way that tea makes my piss stink.” The woman laughed in response and Vincent slipped out of the back of the car, tucking the envelope into his jacket and walking off along the sidewalk, he had work to do, and things were not aligned all around. But there was one thing that added up, and that was Jayson and Vincent = WIN!
