"NO!"

The scream shatters the silence of the darkened room. Cameron Jones sits up, instinctivly rubbing the tears from his eyes. Sleeping tonight is no longer an option as the nightmares were more vivd this time than ever. He lowers his hands from his face & taking a deep breath, swings his legs out from under the covers, firmly planting his bare feet onto the chilly faux bamboo laminate flooring.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit."

Leaning forward from the bed, Cameron shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet & walks towards the bathroom.

*sigh* "Maybe tomorrow will be better."
-----------------------

The lobby of the new TCW "internment camp" was sparsely littered with the remaining "dregs" of the company; stage hands, cameramen, audio & Video techs, you know, the important employees of TCW. But off to one side of the lobby, a loud & brash man was berating some "higher-ups" regarding the current living conditions.

Twisted Brown-You can all go fuck yourselves. I strapped this company onto my back & carried it to it's heights of stardom & now upon my return, I'm stuck curtain-jerking with newbie jobbers? Fuck all of you. I deserve better than this.

Twisted lowers his clenched fists to his sides & out of the right sleeve of his dusty leather jacket, the sound of 3/4 inch thick steel chain links clink as they cascade down to the ground. Making small circular motions with his wrist, the steel chain begins to get coiled around his wrist & knuckles. Mr. Deng & Fragg look down at the ground & back up at Twisted.

Deng-It would be in your best interest to put that away.

Fragg-If you think that scares us...

Twisted stops coiling the chain up, leaving a half a foot of chain still hanging from his hand & unleashes a right, straight out to his side, catching an unsuspecting A/V tech in the temple, dropping him like in a heap like he'd just been taken out by sniper fire.

Fragg-You cocksu...

Deng grabs Fragg by the shoulders & spins him around so they are staring eye to eye.

Deng-We do not get our hands dirty. I have this under control Mr. Fragg. Now please see to our unfortunate employee on the floor at your right. He'll most likely need stitches, but try & keep him from getting x-rays or scans.

Fragg-...

Deng-They cost more here for foreigners than for locals. A lot more.

Fragg turns toward the employee then quickly snatches Twisted up by the jacket collar & gets nose to nose with him as he shoves him against the near wall as the elevator across the lobby dings the arrival of itself.

Fragg-I don't like you. I never have. I never will. You're a loose cannon & one that has outlived it's worth to the company. The first chance I get to end you, I will.

Twisted glances away, then back at Fragg, crinkling his nose. Mimicing Fragg's tone but in an over the top cockney accent, Twisted grins at Fragg.

TB-The first thing you need to do is brush your teeth, guv'ner. The rank stench coming outta your piehole is absolutely rancid. What'd you eat for dinner...shit? Or your mum?

Fragg tenses up, but feels Deng's hand land on his shoulder & then releases his vice grip on Twisted's jacket. He moves away, leaning down to tend to unconscious techie.

Deng-I suggest that you take yourself to your room...no matter how insignificant in the eyes of the company that it makes you feel.

TB-Fuck you Deng. You will learn, soon enough, like all others, that you do not ever fuck with me.

As soon as Twisted turns around, he meets eye to eye with Cameron Jones. The sheer shock of someone being less than an inch from him when he turned around, caused a brief whiplash of his neck. The shock & surprise quickly faded as as large smile adorned TB's face.

TB-And just when I thought my day wouldn't...strike that, couldn't get any fucking better, then you arrive, invading my personal space. You know if you stood any closer, we'd either be fucking or one person.

PD did not respond. His greenish-gray eyes stared into Twisteds without a hint of what was going through his eyes. After 15 seconds that seemed to take 15 hours to complete, PD turned & began walking towards the door.

TB-Are you fucking...

TB took a step towards PD, then stopped.

TB-So that's it? After all this time apart, after me taking the love of your life, after me costing you your return match, after all the hell I've put you through...we finally come face to face...and the best you can do is impersonate a mute & then walk away? Where's the fight? Where's the anger? The hatred?

Twisted extends his arms out to his sides.

TB-Where's the hug?

PD stops as his hand grabs the door handle. He releases the knob & looks over his shoulder at the wall, speaking softly.

PD-If I come back over there...I will end your life.

Twisted glances from side to side, making sure he just heard the words that still seem to hang on the stale air of the low-rent apartment lobby. He slowly walks towards PD, who remains facing the outer door, but staring at the side wall.

TB-Come again? What did you fucking say?

PD turns around & allows himself to look into Twisted's eyes again. At this point, 2 feet of emptiness is all that sepeartes them. PD slides his hands into his hoody's front pouch.

PD-I will end your life.

TB nods his head & in a flash, the strain of anger & pain washes into a giant smile & a hearty laugh bellows from his mouth. After a few seconds, Twisted wipes a non-existant tear from his eye, quickly seizing the now foot long section of chain hanging from his hand. Lunging forward, he thrusts his hands on either side of PD's neck, causing both to lean back into the wall, where Twisted tightens the chain, pinning PD's throat & PD himself, against the wall.

TB-You must have lost your mind. That's why you left, isn't it? You lost it & went to find it. But guess what? You came back before you found it. You don't come back here...*Twisted eyes PD up & down*...especially in your physical condition & start throwing around threats that you can't back up.

Twisted rolls his head on his neck, eliciting a couple of pops & cracks, then looks back at PD.

TB-Making threats like that to someone...especially me, can get someone...especially you, hurt. Plus, I'd hate to have it back fire on you and me have to end your life.

PD stares intently into Twisted's eyes, without blinking. His hands remain in the hoody pouch. Twisted leans in a little closer, much calmer now and speaks a little slower and softer, but more deliberate.

TB-Because I don't care what you think you've gone through in your life, if I have send you to hell, I will. I'll send you straight to a hell worse than anything you've ever had to deal with. I'll send you to my hell. And then what will you do?

PD blinks & slightly licks his lips. As much as the chain will allow, he leans his head forward.

PD-Go ahead...Leroy. Send me to hell. Send me to your hell.

Twisted feels a small chill roll down his spine. He leans back, releasing his grip on the chain. PD leans further forward as Twisted takes a step back.

PD-But know this...Leroy. You can send me to your hell. But I'll come back. I'll come back with it's head in my hands & it's blood spilling from my mouth. And then you'll have to deal with me.

PD brushes past Twisted, walking toward the door. He stops & looks back over his shoulder again. This time, directly at Twisted.

PD-And then what will you do?

PD walks out the door into the late evening darkness.

Twisted lies back in his bed. He is sweaty and uncomfortable, partially from the recent strenuous exercise he had performed with some young oriental lady of questionable repute, and partially cause of the damned humidity. At heart, he is still a cockney lad, born and bred in the cold and rain of East London. He begins on a rant, with young Ling just staring intently into his deadened blue eyes and nodding implicitly. She glances at the clock on the wall. She will continue this nodding for at least another 42 minutes. Longer if this smelly, sweaty foreigner wishes to pay for the pleasure.

Twisted - ………always thought he was better than me. Mr Apple fuckin’ Pie All American. Well you see me. I stole ‘is woman, right from under that big bloody nose of ‘is. He didn’t like the taste of them fucking apples.

Leroy stops for a second. Holds his finger up and studies it for a second. The pale circle still tracks its way around the circumference of his digit. That fucking wedding ring still deems to follow him, even though he got rid of it a long time ago. Four years of his life he simply had to write off. Four years when he fought against his better instincts and played the good little husband, with his boring little job, driving to work before the sun came up, getting home long after it had came down. When he was the king of ECF, he’d made a killing, but he had spent that money as easily as he’d breathed. Some on women, some on drink, some on his habit. The rest he’d wasted. What possible responsibilities would he have ever had to save for? Dammit. He still got shivers every time he thought about it. That first he had laid eyes on her. Standing outside the window of her house. Drawing long and hard on the cigarette as he looked inside at this creature so full of life. The passion with which she threw herself at this man, this Cameron guy. seemed wasted on him. He was all smooth surfaces, and he knew, in his gut, that what she longed for was something with rougher edges. Something to react to. Something to make her blood boil.

Leroy sat up. He quickly dismissed the hooker. Nothing but a little physical pleasure. Just something to grease his wheels. He flicks on the television. He see’s an advertisement for the show. His match is something like fifth on the billing. He looks in the mirror. Is this a lost cause looking back? Is there anything inside this cracked and corroded shell. Is there anything now that can give him that fire back. The way she did?

He’d tried to fill it with passion for ECF. He’d had passion for ECF once. Everyone had quickly seen through that pathetic notion however.

He’d tried to fill in with the infliction of pain upon others. The fervour of being Twisted Brown once again. Sure, there was a certain visceral enjoyment to ripping and tearing at other peoples bodies. But that wasn’t passion either. Rage maybe. He felt a cold blue flame in his heart when he inflicting his misery on other, not that deep red scorching heat that he needed though.

He looked back in the mirror, seeming nothing but a self-pitying son of a bitch staring back. He punched it. Once. Twice. A third time. The glass cracked instantly. Drips of blood slowly trickled down its length, following the cracks.

Smash. Smash. The trickle starts to turn into a steady flow. Crimson drips down from his knuckles. He drops to his knees. His ears are starting to ring. The room spins around him a little. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a child crying.

The door to the other bedroom opens. A small three year old girl with golden blonde curls walks out of the darkness.

Leroy looks down at her.

Leroy – Murphy. Go…go…go back to bed, littl’ ‘un.

The child looks up with deep blue eyes, damp with tears.

Murphy – Daddy?

She hugs him. He lets her. Dripping blood on her teddy bear. The ringing is back in his ears again. He tries to ignore it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Kristina hangs up. No answer again. Incandescent with fury and panic she paces up and down the room of her house in Georgia. She hasn’t seen her daughter, Murphy Lawless-Brown in 36 hours. Leroy never came back from their arranged visit. And she knows he’s in China on tour. She is terrified of the thought that he has taken her, but it’s the thought that he hasn’t that she tries to block from her mind.

She hasn’t been able to get through to anyone in TCW either. She doesn’t have the connections she used to. She does have one final option. She dials the number into her phone. She rings the number. Somebody quickly answers.

Voice – Hello?

The line is grainy and the connection is poor, but she still recognises that voice.

Kristina – Cameron, I need………I need a favour.

At three in the morning, in February, one would expect the combined temperature & humidity not to exceed 75. Unfortunately, in this small slice of China, where Cameron Jones walks alone down a hardpacked dirt road, the humidity alone hovers around 91. He occassionally looks up at the stars in the cloudless night sky. A small animal scurries across the road a few feet ahead of him. It's the first sign of life he's seen since he headed out a couple hours back. Coming over the crest in the road, the apartment complex rises up in the dark, looking more like the bottom half of a volcano that violently erupted, losing it's upper half, than a place of residence. His stride slows as he feels the vibration from his cell phone.

1-770-423-8574

He does not recognize the number, yet he flips open the phone.

"Hello?"

Kristina–Cameron, I need………I need a favour.

The sudden emptiness one is usually left with after a euphoric high has dissapated, or the despair someone's heart grips upon the realization of the finality of happiness shredding into sadness, slides it's fingers around Cameron's heart and lungs & squeezes. He stops dead in his tracks, painful silence falling from his slightly open lips.

KML-Hello? Cameron?

A sudden rush of air into his lungs followed by a rush of blood exploding through his veins throughout his body brings about the recognition that he is not asleep...or dead. He is alone...still alone, in China, on the phone with the one true love of his life, asking him for a favor.

PD-Kr...Kristina?

KML-Cameron...I know this is...I know we haven't spoken in a some time...and the last time we did...*her mouth is dry, so she takes a quick sip of water.*...The last time we did...

PD-I was telling you that I still loved you........And then you walked away.

The silence was both deafening & uncomfortable to both.

KML-Yes. I'm sorry Cam...Cameron...I'm sorry. But I have no one else to go to at this time. I need help. I need you to please help me. Please help me.

He licks his lips to moisten, but does not reply.

KML-I know how hard this is for you. Please don't think that it's not hard for me too.

PD nods at nothing, not thinking that she cannot see him. His reply, he decides, is cold & dry. It needs to be. Because if he shows any emotion, he's liable to break down. There are so many things he wants to say. So many promises he wants to make to her. But he does not.

PD-What do you need?

She senses the change in his tone. It catches her off guard. She attempts to return the coldness with an even more frigid reply & tone, but decides not to. She did love this man at one time. In all actuality, she never stopped. But right now, it's not about them & their past.

KML-Oh. Oh-kay. I know you're in China. I saw that you're back in the business.

PD nods again.

KML-Leroy is over there too. And he has our daughter.

Remember the level of emptiness at which PD had been residing at? Well, you can now couple it with resent & anger and then knock him down a few hundred thousand feet lower & you will now find him there. He lowers the phone from his ear stares at nothing in the darkness & doesn't even realize it, or care. After a few moments, he brings the cell back up to his ear.

KML...rules that were set. So when he did not return and then I read online where TCW was this week and saw that he was fighting you...so I need your help.

PD-I saw him in the lobby a few hours ago. But there wasn't anyone with him.

He hears her catch & stifle a cry in her throat. He could always tell when she was about to go into a full fledged panic attack. And right now, she was knocking on the door of one. His heart begged him to show her compassion. It didn't have to. Knowing the pain that will accompany the ripping open of the old scar, Cameron speaks anyway.

PD-I can still smell your hair. You know that? The way that your lips felt on my neck. The way your fingers would trace nondescript patterns on my upper back when we'd be relaxing on the couch.

He could almost hear the tears rolling down her cheeks as he continued on.

PD-The way your skin tasted. Lightly biting the back of your neck...in the shower after a hard workout. The lacing of our fingers together. I can still feel...I can still feel you. And when I close my eyes...I can almost convince myself that I'm still holding you.

He hears her breathing begin to slow down.

PD-Remember the time when I got my talisman...my tattoo?

KML-mm-hm

PD-The old church. How dark & dank it was in there. The ceremony. Remember how violent & stormy outside it was? Then how calm & peaceful it all became in the church?

The panic attack subsides. He can still hear her softly crying. He secretly wishes for it to be for him, but knows better.

KML-Thank you.

He nods again.

KML-I just don't know what to do. And I was so scared to call you. I thought you might hate me.

PD-Kris...if you need my help, you need to tell me more.

He begins to walk toward the apartment complex, intently listening. In less than 16 minutes walking time, he is at the door to the lobby. He stops short of the steps.

PD-Ok. Ok. I need to let you go now. Since you know this is still my number, you can call me anytime. I promise I'll call you the second I find something out. But if you want to take me up on what I said earlier, I'll contact him & have it all ready & waiting.

KML-Thank you Cameron. I cannot thank you enough. I'll never be able to.

'Yes you could' he thinks. 'Love me again', 'need me again', 'want me again'. He wipes a tear from his eye before it rolls down his cheek.

PD-There's no need. I understand. Once again, just contact him if you want to. I'm here at the building. Let me get going. I'll call you back.

KML-Ok. Please hurry.

PD-Kris...

KML-Yes Cam?

PD-Never mind. I gotta go.

He hangs up, not wanting to hear her reply, for fear that her reply will not have the words 'need', 'miss', 'want' or 'love' in it. He walks up the steps & grabs the lobby handle, pausing for a moment.

"I could never hate you...never."
------------------------

A few minutes later he stands outside Twisted Brown's apartment door. The room is as silent as the hallway. He knocks quick & firmly. Waiting for a moment, he hears a familiar voice from way behind the door, cursing about how sorry someone is going to be that they interrupted his beauty sleep. The door pops open, but only as wide as the chain lock will allow.

TB-What the fuck 'er you doing at me door right now? It's four in the damn morning.

PD searches the floor, door & Twisted's eyes for a reply, then speaks slowly & compassionately.

PD-You and I need to have a talk...Father to father.