ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Unstoppable, Pt. 2

Vignette - Unstoppable, Pt. 2
Dramatis Personae
In Absentia	2013-07-19 Comes after Unstoppable.
Location Arizona
Somewhere in Arizona... The pickup truck pulled off the highway with a dull rumble; the massive man in the back stirred, waking up. "We're here," the old driver up front hollered back. "You alright, son?" "Mmnh," Cain Marko grunted. Somewhere along the line, he had traded his orange jumpsuit for a pair of massive denim overalls and loose flannel shirt, tucked in. He sat up, slinging himself out of the back of the truck's bed. The truck immediately groaned, bobbing back up in relief from his weight. When he hit the earth, asphalt cracked and buckled. "Thanks for the ride," Marko said. "My pleasure," the old man fired back. "You give those folks at Roswell my regards." "...right." Cain Marko stared at the driver as he headed off; he turned back to the dirt road in front of him, and started walking. When he reached the third house on the left, he lumbered up -- past the expensive, massive looking SUV in the driveway -- to the front door. And reached, tentatively, to knock. An older, mousey-looking woman with dark red hair answered the door. Upon seeing the 7 foot tall mutant, her eyes widened with shock. "What -- what are you doing /here/?!" she said, her voice shrill. Cain lifted his massive hands out front of him -- as if to ward off an incoming blow. "Relax, Sam. I just came to--" "Relax?!" she said, and there was a manic energy to her now. "You've been gone for over ten years, Cain! And now I hear about you in the news and the police are after you and /now/ you show up?!" "Sam." Cain took a slow step back, off the steps and on the concrete trail that lead up to the door. "Sam, I ain't here to make things harder for you, alright? I just want to know--" "Th'/fuck/," a loud, rough male voice rouse up from behind Samantha, "is going on out here?" The man who poked his head out past her shoulder was big -- not as big as Cain, but still big on his own right. He wore a sweat-stained tank-top and sweater; one arm immediately slung down over Sam's shoulders, gripping her possessively. He held a beer in the other hand. "Who the hell is this, Sam?" "--this," Sam began, still frazzled and furious. She drew in a breath and tried again, calmer. "--this is. An old acquaintence of mine, Derrick. He's just..." "Leaving?" Derrick said. He stepped forward, shoving himself between Sam and Cain. Cain had a good half foot on him -- but Derrick didn't look worried in the slightest. "You got a problem with my wife, buddy?" Cain tensed and took another step back. He lifted his hands up again: "No problem. Ain't lookin' for trouble. Just wanted to ask her something, is all." "You're a big guy," Derrick continued, taking another step forward. Filling the space Cain gave up. "Bet you think that makes you tough, huh?" "Derrick, don't--" Sam started, but her voice was tiny. Cain's eyes narrowed. "No," he said. "I don't think /that/ makes me tough." "Good, because I sure as fuck ain't scared of you," Derrick said. "I eat shitpiles like /you/ for breakfast. I'm a goddamn ex-Navy Seal mother-fucker, don't--*grk*." Derrick's forward motion stopped the instant Cain Marko's massive palm seized hold of his throat. With scarcely any effort at all, Cain hefted Derrick into the air -- and squeezed. Derrick's eyes bulged. His arms flapped uselessly, the beer tumbling to the sidewalk; he gripped at Cain's fingers, but couldn't make them budge. "Cain!" Sam's voice hitched up in panic. She stepped out of the doorway, eyes widening. "Cain, please--" "This," Cain rumbled, eyes locked on Derrick's face, "is what you replaced me with, Sam? Don't get me wrong. I walked out. You're free to do what you want. But I /know/ you can do better." Sam went quiet. Derrick made a weak, gurgling croak. "...Cain," she said, her voice softer. "What is it you wanted?" "I could just pop his head like a zit," Cain continued, as if he didn't hear her. "Maybe knock over a few houses on my way out. Just tell 'em I did it. Folks'll believe that. All you got to do is say 'okay'." He tore his eyes away from Derrick and settled them on Sam. "Okay?" For a very long, very tense moment, Sam said nothing. Until, finally, in a voice that was barely above a whisper: "Let him go." Cain's hand released. Derrick crumpled to the ground, gasping and wheezing. "I'm tryin' to make amends, Sam. Tell me where to find her." Sam's eyes widened; then, they narrowed. She frowned, before: "--last /I/ heard? New York. We see her pop up on the internet, now and then." Sam shook her head, and: "Really? You came down here just for that? You could have /called/." "Forgot the number," Cain replied. Derrick was stumbling to his feet, running back into the house with a shuddering gasp. He shoved his way past Sam; Cain glared, but said nothing. "He gonna call the cops?" "No," Sam replied, ruefully; her lips twisted into a thin line: "He's probably going to get his shotgun." Somehow, this idea prompted her into a fit of giggles. Cain Marko's face split into a wide grin: "/Seriously/? Th'fuck you see in this guy?" "He..." The giggling evaporated, replaced by something quiet and solemn: "He's /here/, Cain. He /stays/." Cain's grin faded around the edges: "Fair enough. New York, then. Fuck. I just got outta there." He glanced back at the road. "Well..." Derrick burst out of the front door, shotgun in hand. He rushed past Sam, swinging the barrel up to point at Cain Marko's face. "Mother-/FUCKER/!" he screamed. "Sam get out of the way I'm gonna--" As if he were reaching down to take a dangerous toy away from a toddler, Cain Marko dropped one hand down to catch the barrel of the shotgun and squeeze. The metal crumpled beneath his massive palm. Derrick yelped as Cain plucked it out of his hands and twisted it -- boredly -- into a pretzel. He dropped the gun at Derrick's feet. Then, he turned to look at Derrick's SUV. "I like your truck." Derrick stared. And then, hands shaking, fumbled in his pockets to pull out the keys. "...h-here you. Here you go, man. Just--" "Thanks." Cain clasped his hand around the keys, turned -- and glanced back to Sam: "Nice seein' you. Sorry I fucked up your life." "S'alright," Sam said, just a little wistfully. Cain turned back to Derrick. "Tell the insurance company it got stolen. Also, if you hurt her? I'll hear about it. And I'll find you." He opened the car door; the entire vehicle groaned beneath his weight. Once he started the car and backed out onto the road, Derrick reached for Samantha's hand. "Who--who the fuck... who the fuck /was/ that?" he said. "My ex-husband," Samantha replied, watching as the SUV disappeared. "The Juggernaut."