Vaffanculo Dei Morti [Day Zero]

[Kevin Hardaway]

OOC: Yeah, I'm just going to upfront apologize for this simply because I know it could be better and it should be better, but sickness caught me this past week and I'm in the midst of moving and work and other things. My bad.

JANUARY 2ND, 2016
12:00PM
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

Only a couple days into 2016 and it seems that all is working out well. I mean, not as well as one could offer. Kevin Hardaway is sitting down in the kitchen, enjoying a mug of hot chocolate (he was never one to drink coffee) all by himself. Sure, he loved hearing the sounds of his daughter running around and watching cartoons, but she was out today with a couple of her friends from school. So...it's nice once in awhile to just have the house to yourself to have the TV and do whatever you think is best. That is until a knock on the door ruins his trance on the world's quietness.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"Hey, Kevin...I was delivering your mail and you seem to have a package here. Since it's too big to fit it into the mailbox outside so I figured I would just deliver it first hand."

"Good to know. Thanks man."

The mailman hands him the box and the couple envelopes of mail on top of whatever is in the box as they both send off a wave and a goodbye as he closes the door. Whatever this thing is, it's postmarked to him and it was mailed out the other day. What in the holy hell did I even order? I don't remember ordering anything on Amazon. I never drunk buy things. Oh god, I hope it's something that I won't regret. Thank goodness Kim's at school right now for me to even be dealing with this. She's innocent enough as it is, thank god. Either way, he goes through whatever bills and junk mail are on the top as he finally gets to the package and sits down on one of the stools near the counter between the kitchen and his family room as he grabs a pocket knife from the drawer and slices it open.

Suddenly the strongest whiff of smell just comes out of the box like somebody dealt something fierce and fessed up to it. He has to take a second to let it balance out as he keeps opening the box. A dark black plastic wrap is covering what appears to be a book-shaped square that is inside. Oh fucking god, what kind of crazy thing did I buy? And better yet, did I get this as a gag gift from a friend? It would definitely make sense to wake up to find a book filled with nothing but tentacle porn for shits and giggles by somebody who deserves to get kicked in the teeth. He sees a note however on the bottom. It reads...

"For you. I knew you missed this."

Oh yeah, DEFINITELY the work of a gag gift. Let's just get this over with now before the daughter comes home, sees whatever is on the table and has to ask me a million questions. I'm still trying to work on "the talk" for whenever she asks me. Actually, more like "the other talk". The first talk I'm sure will be about...about her. Okay, now I'm getting ahead of myself. I really am. Better lighten the mood here.

He grabs...whatever it is in front of him and tries to find a crease or an opening to just tear into. Some people like opening up things delicately to save paper. He just opens it up like a 6-year old on Christmas Day. As soon as he finds one, he immediately tears into it and sees what he got in the box. No, it's not a head. But the sight of what is in front of him makes him throw the book away from his field of vision and turns him whiter than a ghost on laundry day. Wait...that couldn't be what I just saw, right? This REALLY has to be a sick joke. NO. WAY. NO FUCKING WAY. NO. WAY. Some people are just assholes. He creeps up to behind the counter and looks down at the book.

The book is deeply cut into, with what appears to look like rotting something on the cover. That's must be where the smell came from. It being in the box didn't really help matters either. There also appeared to have a face on it. He wasn't sure, he just freaked out seeing what was in front of his eyes. But the placement of holes in the book seemed to be that it made out a pair of hollowed out eyes and a mouth. As he creeps up to it, he notices it clearly and the longest, coldest, and ugliest chill moves down his spine. Tears begin to stream down his face. Like...like it was something he didn't want to see ever again.

Oh my...oh...oh for the love of god. W...why is this fucking thing here? Wh...who in their right mind would send me this piece of shit? This isn't a gag gift, it's a fucking nightmare...god, why?!?!

His inner thoughts just freak him out even more. What can he even do with this thing? It's not like he can just throw it out or even put it on the bookshelf. It will come back for him. He knows it. It's come back for him after all. And there's nothing he can do to even help it. He's stuck with this thing for the rest of his life. He puts it back on the table and looks at the clock on the wall...

12:30PM. Kim won't be home for a few hours. I need to find something...I need to find someone who can help me with this damn thing. I don't know who to even call. Nobody knows how to even fucking help me with something of this nature. Nobody even knows about this kind of nature.

Only one other person knew...and she's dead because of this fucking thing.

Suddenly. It hits him. Like a hand grenade.

God dammit. I think...I think I might know who can help me with this...this...I think I know. I think I have her number. God even help me on this one.

He looks at his phone and sighs. He has her number still. For whatever reason. He dials it and expects to leave a message. He knew she wouldn't answer if she didn't know who it was.

But instead...

"Hello?"

He stays silent for a few seconds.

"Hello?"

"Ruby?"

Now it's silent on both ends. She knows that voice from anywhere.

"I should just fucking hang up now."

"Nononono...please, just...just hear me out."

"H...HOW?! I put you in the back of a hearse and closed the door. I ended this charade of ours. What...the fuck...do you want?"

"I...I need your help."

"With what? Trying to brainwash me? Trying to murder me yet again?"

"Something just arrived to my house andddd...I have no idea what on earth to even do with it."

"What? And I swear to god..."

"JUST SHUT UP FOR A SECOND! I'll send you a picture."

He turns on his camera and takes a quick screenshot of the book on the table and sends it to her. For a few minutes, more silence is heard but then a long and fearful sigh comes over her.

"What part of "RETIRED" don't you understand? That said...I'm on my way."

A long and fearful sigh comes over him now as well.

"Who in god's name is sending you something like that anyways? Do you got a death wish, boy?"

"You...you have no fucking idea. I'll explain when you get here."

"Whatever...just, please don't open that book."

"I'm aware. Trust me."

"That's what scares me."

She really has no idea what she is in store for. Nobody is at this point...

==

So, let's talk about Johnny Cannon...actually, I don't know WHERE to even start. Like, I really don't know who he is, I don't know what he's capable of, should I go on? Yeah yeah, I know he's been around FGA for about a year, and actually...fun fact, he was a large part of...THAT place. We actually did a flip-flop of places as well. He left there to come here, and I left here and was forced against my will to go there, it's a similar comparison really. That's about it though. I could have faced him if he was still there or if I was here, but alas...Vertigo 10 is the first time we'll be in the middle of that ring together. Soooo, that's really all I have on that situation. But moving on, I suppose.

I think the other thing that I should mention is that he was involved in a feud with Johnny Karma, and to be honest, HE was the one who kicked me out of FGA the last time I was even in that ring before a couple of weeks ago. And guess what...you got his head kicked off by him a couple of weeks ago as well. Funny funny stuff, really. Nah, not really. I never once left FGA because of losing to him, in fact...he gained a hell of a lot of respect from me last year. So props to him, I guess.

Should I just go to the basics and just mention about how you're the ruthless type. Who doesn't like people who are fake or like to have fun, that sort of thing. Should I just go on and on about the fact that it's the super serious types that are ruining this for the rest of us. The type who like to be "strong style" and like to do nothing but hit and kick and brood like the other dark and gritty heroes that fill our TV screens and comic books these days. I've always thought that people like you made me sick to my stomach. "GRR! ARGH! I'M SUPER SERIAL! THAT MEANS I'M BETTER THAN YOU!" Yeeeeah, no. Just...no.

Soooo, that's pretty much it. I...I have nothing. Hey, I rather keep it short and sweet. Because I'm pretty sure Cannon will spend 30 minutes rambling. Hey...I'm a bastard, not a fucking bastard.