Five Things That Didn't Happen To Rodney Lange
by Demi X
Rated: Mature
Pairing: Rodney Lange
Author's Notes: I apologize for being so late. hopefully, this is a case of better late than never. ;-) I havent written fiction in over three years, I hope that the fact that I'm rusty doesnt show too much. I've continued on from a story I wrote about Rodney Lange The Prize Fighter.
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The buildings paraded by, lights in the windows bright and cheery in the dark of car, mocking the darkness of Rodney's mood. All he could think of was finding a way out of this life…a way to escape the pain of living life as a slave…. Slave to a man who would exploit him and a slave to alcohol.
Rodney let his mind brush over many scenarios and many ways to make Coleman and Wallace pay for not only his suffering but Iris' and god knows how many others. In between thoughts of revenge came the queasy feelings of, 'What would have happened if Coleman had decided to send Iris to that penthouse? What would they have done to her?'
And worse, Rodney thought, 'What would that pack of Hyenas do to the next person that they bought and took to that room?' Coleman had to be stopped, that much Rod knew. Along with Coleman, Wallace had to be stopped too. As far as Rodney was concerned, the enforcer was just as guilty as Coleman in this whole matter…doing Coleman's bidding, putting into force that his boss's orders were always carried out…getting off on hurting others while hurting them..'
"You're quiet." Wallace commented casually, as he sped down the freeway.
Proving to Rodney that he was an unfeeling son-of-a-bitch Wallace added, "Mr. Yellow said you were the best he'd ever had." A small chuckle came out of his ugly mouth.
Rodney cringed inwardly at the very sound of the other mans' voice.
"There's not much to say except that if those fuckers hadn't drugged me, I would have kicked the shit out of all four of them for what they did to me." Rodney didn't bother lying to the other man.
Wallace in turn, faced me, swept his passenger from waist to face and replied sharply, "It's only a couple of bruises….you were there to fuck not to fight." He shifted and put his eyes back on the road and then added, "and you better get used to it too, cause Mr. Coleman, has no need for a second rate bare knuckle fighter….a good whore however, is hard to find and a lot more profitable.."
The younger man reminded Wallace, "Coleman said I only had to do it a couple'a times before mine and Iris's debt was paid off."
Wallace choked out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you kidding me? Coleman is billing you out as Rod the Bod to a shit load of clients that have lined up to rent you….Jesus Rodney, get with the program, he'll use you as long as he can, and when you're no longer young and pretty, then and only then will he cut you loose." As Wallace spoke, he kept his eyes on the road. He spoke as if Rodney should have seen this move coming. "Get used to the fucking Rod, 'cause that's all your good for in Mr. Coleman's eyes."
The realization that Rodney or sister would never be free hit the fighter like a left hook, and he knew, that he had to do something to free Iris and himself from Coleman's clutches.
Rodney once saw Wallace hide a gun under the passenger's front seat. A back up gun for Coleman, should he need a weapon. Wallace had no idea that anyone knew it was there so ignorance as well as surprise was on the younger man's side. He forced a coughing fit upon himself and leaned over as if trying to calm the spasms. The car was dark, dark enough to hide his actions…he slipped an arm under the seat, felt around and put his fingers around the gun. Coughing some more, Rodney pulled the weapon from its place between seat and the seat cover and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Clearing his throat he sat up straight…coughing spell done with, objective obtained.
"You know, if you would eat more and drink less, you might have a better immune system….you might not catch so many colds."
"Right, like you care whether or not I get sick"
"You're right, I don't give a shit about you…you're nothing to me, but Coleman thinks he can make money off you, therefore, I can make money off you…."
And with that insulting exchange, the two of them stayed quiet for the rest of the trip back to Rodney's place.
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Wallace pulled over in front of the dilapidated apartment building and before his passenger could open the door he dropped an envelope in his lap.
Payment for Rodney for the evening's work.
Rodney tossed Wallace a sour looked and then snatched the envelope up.
As he climbed out of the car Wallace said, "Coleman wants to see you tomorrow night at the club; eight o'clock sharp."
Rodney slammed the door without replying and immediately started up the stairs to the front entrance of brick building. As soon as he was inside his apartment, he slammed the door and locked it. Tearing open the envelope, Rodney pulled out the contents and counted. Coleman had paid him a lousy two hundred bucks for servicing four men before getting raped and beat up. The anger that the fighter felt was all consuming…fifty bucks for each guy…that's all he was worth in Coleman's eyes….
'I could get more working the street' he thought….he crumpled the envelope in one large fist and then tossed it aside; pocketing the cash…ultra aware of the gun sitting next to the bills.
As an afterthought, Rodney pulled open a kitchen drawer and took out a small, Swiss army knife; it would suffice for what he had in mind.
With a confidence and a resolve the young man had never felt before rushing through his head, Rodney turned and went out his apartment door.
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First thing he did was stop at the liquor store and bought a fifth of Jack Daniels. Opting out of a brown paper bag, he crammed the bottle into the other pocket of his jean jacket. The liquor was for later, he did not need to be drunk for what he was about to do next…but he would sure as hell need to be drunk afterwards; for what he had in mind.
Rodney walked the short distance to the Dug Out, sticking to the alleys and the shadows, not wanting to be seen. Once there, he hid himself in the same safe shadows and waited for Coleman to leave the club. Wallace's car was parked next to Coleman's matching one, so he knew that he was there too.
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After an hour of waiting, the neon lights advertising the name of the bar went out, making the parking lot even darker…further masking Rodney's presence. He sat down on the curb and quickly removed his shoes and socks. He immediately put his shoes back on and then pulled his socks over his hands. Knowing he had just moments and using the dark night as cover, Rodney opened the hood of Coleman's car and pulled the wires away from the carburetor. He gently pushed the hood shut avoiding the give away slamming sound and went back to his spot in a shadow of a cardboard only recycling bin. A few minutes after the sabotage job, the front door to the club opened and Wallace came out first followed by Coleman.
Coleman locked the door and both men said their good nights. Wallace, thinking his boss safe, pulled out of his parking spot and was away in his car.
Coleman climbed into his car and was surprised to find that his car wouldn't start when he turned the keys. Before the man had time to try and turn the engine over again, Rodney stepped out of his spot and walked up to the car. Not wanting to give him a chance to phone Wallace for help, Rodney quickly pulled the door handle and opened the door.
All Coleman had time to say was, "What the fu….?" Then Rodney pulled the trigger.
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Before he could even begin to comprehend that he had just killed a man in cold blood, Rodney slammed the door shut and took off running, making sure to drop the gun nearby so that the cops would find it. His plan of killing Coleman wouldn't be complete without setting up that sadistic fucker Wallace as the trigger man.
One dead crime boss and an all around scumball….added together with a known henchman and another all around scumball, throw in the henchman's personal gun as the murder weapon and the cops would for sure two and two together the easiest way possible.
Rodney was positive of that.
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He fled away from the scene as silently as he could; sticking to the shadows all the way to the wall at the edge of the sea.
As a kid, Rodney had run to the beach almost every time his mother had a 'friend' over. He sister and would get out of the apartment as quick as possible lest the 'friend' have more interest in his sister or himself …too much interest from strange men was never good; Rodney learned that at a young age.
Iris would always run to a girlfriend's house, and Rodney would come to the water. The waves that washed in to the shore comforted him as boy, he felt safe there. Rod jumped off the wall and into the sand and then walked up the shoreline to a spot where there was a shallow cave. Police patrolled the beach regularly to keep away partying teenagers and transients who might want to settle down in the cave permanently; he knew that he would have the cave for only short time; before he would be found.
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With the security of the rock wall at his back, Rodney took off his jean jacket and reached into the pockets pulling out the pen knife and the bottle of Jack Daniels. Finally, he could relax; he was done with murder and could now have a drink. Rodney tested the sharpness of small knife against the seal of the whiskey; it sliced the thick plastic neatly and he smiled. Twisting off the cap, Rodney took a long drink from the bottle, swallowed repeated the process and then drank again one more time. He sealed the bottle and set it aside and he turned his attention back to the knife in his hand. With one final deep breath Rodney put the knife to his wrist. He stuck the sharp point of the blade into soft skin at the base of his wrist, Rodney exhaled sharply and a soft cry of pain followed the breath of air.
Tears formed in Rodney's eyes, yes he could do this…really do this to himself. He wasn't afraid of leaving Iris' alone; she had long since stopped needing him and could take care of herself now that Coleman was out of her life.
With final thoughts of his sister's ultimate happiness, Rodney sank the blade deeper and cut; pulling the blade up the vein and not across for maximum damage. There was no turning back now, he switched hands before he lost the use of them and quickly sliced into his other wrist... making the second cut slash was easier than the first.
The cutting done, Rodney dropped the knife into the cold sand and relaxed into the wall. Letting the sounds of the Pacific Ocean lull him into an unreturnable bliss…..
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Duncan, guided by moonlight walked up the deserted beach, his thoughts on his old friend Sully. The man had gone off the deep end, and Mac worried about the implications of him doing so. Suddenly a shiver coursed through him, setting off a siren only he could hear. He turned his head sharply in the direction the shiver had come from; there was an immortal nearby….very close by.
Guided by instinct, the immortal pulled his sword and carefully made his way to where he knew the other immortal was. He found the place quickly and was surprised when he saw a man leaning against the back of a small cave and not in a defensive position awaiting his arrival; for surly the immortal knew he was there too.
The shivers stopped coursing through Duncan and he knew that the man had just died.
Sticking his sword into the sand so that it stood near to hand and upright, Duncan waited, patiently, for the new immortal to be born.
Within minutes the young man's eyes flew open as he expelled a huge breath then took one in. Rodney rolled over in agony as the process of his first quickening overtook him….finally, the wracking pain slowed to merely aching and Rodney lay there panting heavily briefly unaware of where he was. Gradually he came to consciousness and his frightened eyes searched all around him as he sat up shakily. To his surprise, he saw a man standing before him, a man he recognized from the Dugout, the guy was Sully's friend but he couldn't recall his name.
"What?" Rodney said to the Man… "Who are you…what happened I thought I was?"…
Duncan smiled and said quietly, "I am Duncan MacLeod . . . of the clan MacLeod . . . I'm from the village of Glenfinnan, Scotland, it was there in 1622 that I came into my immortal self." Duncan approached the young man and squatted down in front of him. "I'm an immortal and so are you. That pain you feel is the after effects of the quickening." He extended his and hand an offered, "Come with me and I will help you learn the ways of us."
Rodney, still in shock over having died and then resurrected, put his shaking hand into the man's before him. "Okay…" he said, as the other immortal closed his fist tightly and helped the bewildered immortal to his feet.
The End
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