Outlaws (Part Two)

Act 2

"Logan to Government Center"

Sometime in the past…

***

"Hello?"

Anj looked up from under the hood of the Civic he was working on. A man, wearing a loose gray suit, stood in the open doorway of the garage. Behind him the sun was beginning its long descent from the sky and it cast the man's shadow across the smooth cement floor of the shop.

"Help you?" Anj asked as he turned down the radio he had sitting on a wooden stool next to him.

"Is this your shop?" the man asked.

Anj tossed the wrench he was using into the toolbox on the ground and it clattered against the other tools. As he approached the newcomer he pulled an oil stained rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands off.

"No," he replied. "My boss Donnie owns the place. I'm just putting in a little overtime."

"I see," said the man. "I was told to talk to the owner."

"I can try to help you where I can. You have a car that needs to be serviced?"

The man squinted at him for a second, giving Anj a tight smile. It wasn't until Anj got closer he realized how tall the man was. Anj was six-two, but the man easily had a few inches on him.

"Not quite," the man said and passed Anj a folded piece of note paper. "I'm supposed to be picking up this."

Anj opened it and in bold lettering someone had written: '95 Subaru

"No way," Anj muttered.

"Is there a problem?"

"Who gave you this?'

"I cannot say," the man said, giving that tight lipped smile again. "Do you have this car?"

Anj laughed as he passed the note back.

"Yeah, thing has been sitting under a tarp for the two years I've been here. I just figured it was for scrap or something. I couldn't even tell you where the keys are."

"Not to worry," the man said and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a singular key. "I have the key."

Anj shrugged as he rubbed a hand over the back of his head.

"She starts," he said. "She's all yours."

The two started across the cracked tarmac of Donnie's Auto Body. The day was still warm, but as what was typical for September, the night would be cool. Anj hoped so. It'd been a long day and he was looking forward to getting home and sitting on the couch with Beth as the cool breeze came in through their apartment window.

"… are you?"

"I'm sorry," Anj said. "I was spacing out. Long day."

"I asked how old you were."

"Twenty-two."

The man nodded politely as if Anj offered up the information by his own accord. They reached the end of the lot where the tarmac turned to dirt. In the corner where the lot's metal fence joined sat a car covered in a blue tarp. The tarp itself was coated in debris, dirt and dead leaves. A few pools of water were sitting in the folds of the fabric.

Anj pulled the tarp free as the man stood back and to the side like Anj was about to reveal to him a brand new Porsche off the show room floor. He was surprised, however, to see that the Subaru had maintained some of its paint job. There were a few rust spots near the corners and near the bumper. But for being out in the lot for as long as it had been it could have looked a lot worse.

"Here she is," Anj said. "She's been through two New England winters, maybe more. If she starts it's a miracle."

"Have a little faith," the man said and patted Anj on the shoulder. He took the key from his pocket and open the driver's side door. Anj could smell the damp, musty scent from the interior of the car. He crossed his arms as he watched the man insert the key into the ignition.

Click-click-click-click…

The man tried again, a frown forming on his face.

Click-click-click-click…

Anj laughed.

"I told you, man. It's been out here too long."

The man climbed out of the car, adjusted his tie, and to Anj seemed to try to regain some sense of composure. He glanced around the lot, eyes looking for something. Anj tried to follow where they were going.

"I will require another vehicle," the man said. "Preferably something that starts."

"We're not an auto dealership," Anj said. "If you and Donnie had some type of arrangement for the Subaru, that's fine, but anything else is my responsibility."

"Our arrangement was that he would supply me a vehicle."

Now it was Anj's turn to glance around the lot. It was usually in his nature to tell a guy, especially a guy in a suit, to take a flying leap, but he didn't want anything coming back on Donnie. 

Donnie had been good to him, like giving him work after he got injured…

"Tell you what," Anj said. "We got a Hyundai out around back. It was abandoned. Owner didn't show up to pay us for the work. If you're not picky then it's yours."

The man smiled, a real one this time.

"That would be great."

Anj returned to the office and fetched the keys for the gray Hyundai and brought the vehicle out front. The man looked on, very pleased it seemed like. Anj got out and tossed him the keys.

"You get pulled over in that thing," Anj said. "I don't know where it came from."

"I am careful," the man said. "I like that you are too. I would expect nothing less of a military man."

Anj looked down at his open shirt and saw that his dog tags were glinting in the dying sunlight.

"I just don't want any heat on Donnie, okay? He's a good guy."

The man nodded.

"Thanks for you help…?"

"Angelus," he said and shook the man's hand. "But my friends call me Anj."

"Angelus. That is a name I have not heard in a very long time. I'm sure you know it's latin for Angel."

A long pause seemed to settle in between them.

"Well, Mr. Angelus, it's been a pleasure. Maybe someday I'll be able to return the favor."

Later, Anj stood leaning against the garage doorway. He was absently sipping at a bottle of Pepsi. The sun was just about down now, and it glowed like a bonfire on the horizon. He knew Beth would be expecting him soon.

But he just couldn't get the man's words out of his head…

"I'm sure you know it's latin for Angel."

Where had he heard that before?

---

***

From over the wire…

"How would you like to go to the states?"

"America?"

"No, moron. The other states. Yes, America."

"What for?"

"There's someone I think you should meet. Someone you have a lot in common with."

"What's her name?"

"I'm not sending you to get laid, amigo. This is an assignment."

"Allow me to rephrase then, amigo. What's his name?"

"Angelus."

"…"

"You seem confused."

"What type of man has only one name?"

"This man."

"Where is he currently?"

"Las Vegas, Nevada."

"Ah, city of sin. I might get laid after all."

"…"

"What brings this, Angelus, to Las Vegas?"

"Don't you watch TV?"

"Don't own one … how's he know me?"

"He doesn't -- well, he might. Regardless, you should meet him. He'll be very, very interested to talk to you. Like I said, you and him have a lot in common."

…connection lost…

---

***

He stood staring into the mirror that was over the sink in the locker room bathroom. The silence in the room was nice. He'd run the stairs of the arena to work up a good sweat and to get his mind off --

"Hey there, kiddo."

Anj stirred, but didn't bother to look up into the mirror.

"Help you with something?"

"Ah, I suppose not. I figured you'd be in here with everything all sorted out. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be out there on Wednesday."

Anj nodded.

"Would you like that?"

Anj didn't answer. Instead, he looked into the corner of the mirror and slowly allowed his eyes to drift from the boots of the stranger, up to his worn denim jeans, to this face, covered in gray whiskers.

"You got yourself one hell of a fight on your hands, kiddo."

"I suppose I do."

"Don't let that confidence of yours get in the way."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Alright, I can see you don't want to be bothered. You know it wouldn't kill you to just humor an old man every once and awhile."

Anj clutched the sink, shut his eyes and inhaled in. After a second, he turned toward the doorway --

"Look, I'm sor--"

"Sorry about what?" Steve Sayors asked.

"Nothing. One of… one of the interns was just asking me something."

Sayors peered into the room behind him and then back at Anj.

"Must have just missed him. I didn't see --"

"Can I help you with something, Steve?"

He watch Sayors pull out his tape recorder and he knew what came next. Sayors would ask him questions about the US title tournament. 

How his health was? (Good). How his training was going? (Also good). Did he have the stamina to go through fifteen other XWF superstars? (You better believe it).

But most importantly he'd ask about Sebastian Duke and his comments.

He wouldn't ask about the cripple Mr. Satellite, because let's be honest, and no pun intended, Mr. Satellite wasn't a competitor. He wasn't a champion. He was just another mental misfit too caught up in his own dogma to realize any true potential.

*Beep* *Beep* Mr. Satellite. Here comes your short bus to take you back to Sleepaway Camp.

Sayors would want to know why a man like Sebastian Duke is even still here.

Was anyone still listening?

That's a great question, Anj would say. He'd tell Sayors that Duke can battle for legitimacy every day of the week for all he cared. He'd never achieve it. He was a nobody and just like Satellite he was too lost in his BS ideals to see through the fog.

He'd tell Sayors to deliver this message personally to Duke.

"You're not an Angel of Darkness. You're not a High Priest. You're an old man, sitting up in your homemade Castle Grayskull, who thinks he can practice the dark arts and run his little drama club theatrics. Here's a suggestion, Duke. Consider it on the house. You want to be taken seriously? Go wipe off the guyliner. Put away the costumes and the smoke machine. Turn off the creepy music and actually attempt to win a damn match. You can pretend you know me, Duke. But you don't. You don't know a thing about me. On Warfare the story ends the same and that's me putting you down again, but since you seem to like the macabre, maybe I should go dig you a nice dirt grave and you can go join your career since that's already dead and gone. Rest in peace, Sebastian"

---