What the...?! [O2A]

[Tha Nightmare 187]

~Takes Place Before the Tribute to the Troops, But After This~

His head was thumping something fierce. He could hear the sounds of birds chirping and footsteps passing by him. For some reason, he was freezing. Why the Hell was he so cold? Did he forget to pay the gas bill or something? No. It couldn't be that. He was sure he made the payment. Was the heat turned down? He didn't remember touching the thermostat last night. He didn't even really remember going to bed last night. He felt a slight pressure hitting him in his arm. What was it? It just kept hitting him a couple of times. Then it would stop momentarily, and it began hitting him again. Almost like he was being poked by something. Was he being poked? Was something poking him? Or someone? Was someone poking him? It certainly felt like a finger was tapping him on the shoulder. He raised an arm limply to swat at whatever it was that was poking him and mumbled something like...

"...mmmphcut it out..."

There was a moment of nothing. Maybe whatever it was had gone away. He had hoped so. He hated being bothered. But what he still couldn't figure out... Why was he still so cold? He was covered in his blankets, right? Did they fall off? Was he tossing and turning in the night? Then he began to feel that poking again. Why did this thing or person keeping poking him? He began to hear faint voices again. He couldn't make out what they were saying. The poking began to get a little harder and it was actually bothering him now. He leaned his head back and let out a long yawn. He slowly began to open his eyes and wake from his slumber since someone wouldn't stop bothering him. But what he saw before him had startled him pretty bad...

"What...?! What the Hell...?!"

He was actually sitting outside and upright on a park bench. And apparently someone had been poking him to wake him up because no one really should fall asleep outside in New York City on a park bench during these cold ass winter days... He looked up at the person who was waking him up and said...

"What the Hell is going on...?"

And the person who found Tha Infamous One sleeping outside on a park bench in all of his confusion was...

[Jon Payne]

The last I checked, there were some pretty decent accommodations in town. So why is a man who's getting two paychecks sleeping out here on a park bench when he could be a hotel somewhere?

That was the question that Payne was asking as this man finally came to. The question he was asking himself as he asked this though was why did he care? This was a man in Adrian Taylor that up until this point he had never directly spoke to. He knew of who "Tha Infamous 187" was, yes. But their paths were two different ones. His was a path that Payne chose to stay clear of, or that they wisely stayed clear of themselves. A path with "brotherhoods" and "families" and entities from a far distance that somehow had their place in "history", but all ultimately are no more.

Maybe that was why he was intrigued as he walked past this particular bench and found this man sleeping there. There was a new "game" in town, and like many others who went into hiding so to speak, 187 emerged from wherever he was and decided to get back into the business, conveniently as another new company emerged.

I can at least speak for the company I work that the starting money's pretty good. Heard you got a deal or something going with Ms. Blackheart. So then...what's "The Infamous 187" doing on a parkbench then?

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"What...?"

He was on a park bench? He took a moment to look at where he was sitting. Then he took another moment to look to the left of him and then to the right. 187 looked around him to see where exactly he was right now. He couldn't pin point what park he was in or where the Hell in the city he was. It was time to get up, he thought. He was freezing. He felt stiff. His ass was actually numb from sitting here for God know how long he had been here. He certainly didn't remember going out last night. What the Hell happened? It was all a blur. 187 pushed himself off of the bench and stumbled a bit. Then he turned around to face Jon Payne, trying to get a grasp what his current situation was right now. The look of confusion remained on his face. He began to say...

"Honestlly..."

He lifted a hand up to scratch the back of his head. He really couldn't remember what happened the night before. Things were actually fine when he got back to his apartment. He had a great talk with Lilith. He returned him not drunk for once. He got home alright. There weren't any complications that he could remember. 187 continued to say, still a little confused...

"...I don't know... There's something... What the...? Where...?"

He started to trail off a little bit in what he was saying. He lifted his free hand underneath his shirt to check for any new scars or stitches in the organs area. Did someone knock him out and steal his organs? That would be some freaky shit. Nope. He didn't feel anything under there. That was a relief. He hoped this wouldn't be some fucked up Jigsaw shit either. He just shook his head and lowered his arms down at his sides.

"Maybe you can help me out here... Where exactly am I? And what time is it? And if you happen to know... How long have I been here?"

[Jon Payne]

Well that wasn't the kind of answer Jon was expecting. Yes, the man looked like he was out of it, but so much out of it that even HE didn't know what was going? That's not good.

It's 11 in the morning, and you're in Tompkins Square Park, East Village. That's a long way from 1 Penn Plaza on foot.

Miles at least. From midtown Manhattan to downtown manhattan with no recollection of how he got there? That's really not good.

You really don't know how you ended up here?

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"Let's see..."

He tried to replay the events of the night before in his head to try and remind himself of what had actually transpired. There had to be something that was a little off. Some small detail that he was missing that could explain this whole... losing time. For some reason, this scenario seemed familiar.

"Can't say that I do. I remember having a drink with a friend of mine. We had a nice talk. She had to run off because of some business she had. I returned home later that night. And for some reason... The rest is just a blur."

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He began to stuff his hands into his pockets in case there might be some kind of evidence of something he could have done. A receipt, or a ticket stub, or just something. While he searched his own pockets, he looked back at Jon Payne and said...

"Tompkins Square Park, huh? Don't know how I ended up all the way down here. Haven't gotten a car yet and I'm sure the cab service here hasn't changed. They always pass me by when I'm trying to grab one. Must find me threatening or something. Heh, heh."

He cracked a smirk and laughed a bit. Making a little joke at his own expense. The way he dressed? The way he acts on live television? Yeah, he might be a celebrity, but those cab drivers have probably had enough problems in this damn city that he couldn't really blame them for ignoring him on the curbs.

[Jon Payne]

So you don't have any clue how you got down here?

It just wasn't adding up. Unless he had some kind of out of body experience or something. That's what Jon was thinking, but as he thought it he wondered WHY he would even come up with such a crazy explanation.

Well, at least you're not hurt or anything like that. That's a good thing. But...you sure you don't remember anything? Anything at all? Maybe if you go back to where you were before things got blurry, that might give you a clue or something.

Seriously, that kinda stuff isn't safe. You really should try to figure out what's the story.

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"No. If I knew how I got down here, I wouldn't say a park bench would have been my first choice to take a nap on. I really don't think that's a smart idea."

...187 said, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. He had no clue how he got here and asking him repeatedly wasn't going to make him remember any faster. He pulled his hands out of his pockets full of whatever he had in there. He looked and saw the usual things. His wallet. His car keys. A pack of gum. A pack of Newport cigarettes. Then there was his prescription pill bottle for his anti-depressants. The problem was there was nothing in this bottle, which was strange because he knew he hadn't taken them all. But there was something in the pill bottle. It looked like a crumpled up piece of paper.

"Ah shit... What do we have here...?"

He proceeded to put the rest of his belongings back in his pocket. Then he began to twist the top off of the pill bottle and pulled the crumpled up paper out. He began to unfold it to see it was a note. He began to read what it said...

"Had a blast last night. Wish you were there. Sorry. The fun has only just begun.

P.S. Pills are for pussies.

...Huh?"

Unfortunately, he knew exactly who wrote this note but he couldn't really say. What? Spread rumors that he was fucking nuts? Like that wasn't already known in the locker room. But legitly a lunatic? Yeah. He's not going to say shit. He'll have to play stupid with Jon Payne here. But he knew this pill bottle in his hand with his name on it was probably going to make it's way through the grapevine. He just looked up at Jon Payne with an eyebrow raised. Looking confused still by this message he's gotten.

[Jon Payne]

A pill bottle? 187's eyebrow wasn't the only one that was raised after seeing that. Well, people do take medicine for many reasons, after all. Physical ailments, mental problems, what have you. It could have been some allergy medicine, or it could have been anabolic steroids.

Luckily, he's not exactly a mountain of muscle is 187, so that ruled that idea out. Really wasn't in Jon's place to pass judgement, even though anyone with a right mind could deduce that perhaps said bottle might have had something to do with the man's current location.

Jon slowly puts his hands in his pockets.

Hey, as long as it's not anything intravenous, I can't say nothing.

He didn't see the contents of the bottle, just the bottle itself. Still, it's not his right to accuse of anything. All he could do was assume. Of course, he had his assumptions given the current situation, but there's not much to go on but what his eyes are seeing, and the eyes of course don't always tell the whole story.

Must have been quite the story to tell.

There really wasn't any way he could give advice. It wasn't his business, nor was it really anything he had ever had any experience of or with to even give advice about. All could do was lend a hand. Show some empathy to the situation...

You need a ride or something? I just got done taking care of some business, so I can give to a ride back to your hotel, unless your good...

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"Looks like I'm going to have to get a new prescription here. Seems like I lost my medication here."

He began to stuff the pill bottle back into his pants pocket. Note to self... Get a new prescription for anti-depressants. And hide the bottle from the dark shadow. Oh, what's the use. The dark shadow knows this because he knows this. Speaking of which... Where the Hell was that guy...? No snickering up there from his current situation? No whispering evil thoughts in his ear? Where's that little voice in his head to tell him he should have just jammed that pill bottle down Jon Payne's throat and let him choke on it? Hello? The lights are on. One roommate is home. Where's the other one? He shouldn't complain, but even he didn't know the full extent of his mental illness. It was just strange because this seemed like one of those situations that his darker self would have just had a field day with. Either way... There's no telling what problems he had gotten himself in the night before. His safe bet was just accepting the ride with Jon and get off the streets.

"And about that ride..."

He might need to check back at his place to see if there was any evidence there. He would hate to see himself end up on the New York news again. It was bad enough that he had to deal with that little 'misunderstanding' the other night with those bizarre claims of kidnapping of his opponent he'll be facing at Fort Bragg. Ugh... He hated the media. He began to nod his head and said...

"Sure. I could use a ride. Maybe I'll see something along the way that'll jog my memory and I can put this complex puzzle back together. Ya know?"