Meandering After A Few Days Rest

[jbt]

Taggert sat off at one of the beaten tables in the yard, not far away from the towering, lifeless stone of the exterior walls of the 'prison', as it were called by many. He muttered to himself and ripped away the last of the bandages still holding themselves together on his left arm.

"Yeap, I have ta say I was right there. Damn, that there boy hurt. No surprise given his size. Was worth it though, ta see him limpin into tha ring."

Shaking his head, Taggert chuckled a bit at the memory of Big Evil and being on the wrong side of those fists in the ring.

"Gives me an idea of what ta start ta prepare for, that it does. Can't say I expected any kind of a thank ya or even a nod from Jobu though. I'm bettin he doesn't even know. And I can sure as hell bet ol' Marshal lump din't tell him anythin. Ah well."

Taggert took a moment to look around the yard again, taking in the sight of various other inmates/wrestlers at their own activities. He noticed a pair engaged in a smallish sort of a brawl and snorted to himself.

"These brutes ain't nothin at all like tha old days. Waste of flesh and breathin space, ifn' ya ask me."

[tjmarshal]

Marshal strutted his way into the yard, looking rather pleased with himself. Why shouldn't he, he thought. He'd coordinated the very sort of direct confrontation that single handedly won Jobu the World Title. He was so pleased with himself, it was as if he'd gone out there and wrestled the match for him. It was as if he himself has scored the very pinfall, though mind you, that was not far from his thoughts either. He'd been thinking about that well after the show had ended and the rest of the others had cleared out. He knew Jobu, and while he was pretty sure he didn't have any sort of shot at beating his former and current tag team partner, it wasn't beyond him to give it a shot once or twice. All that stood in his way was this damn matter of respect. He wasn't going to just waltz up and challenge him, but neither would he mount a viscous weekly attack on him either, like he had with Jonathon Wild. He was positive that maybe that same strategy wouldn't work here. Either way, he was fine, so long as his closest trusted people had some belts around them. It all began with Jobu. As for the rest, he was struggling to figure that out. Where to go next? Not far from his mind though, was the damage and impact they had just unleashed. Anymore now, he would have to watch his back. He was certain a lot of people would be angry. Very angry.

"Well, I'll be damned! Look at who we have here! How are you feeling, champ? Man, did you ever take one hell of a beating out there. Who knew the old boy still had something in him?", T J offered, tossing himself onto a seat near Taggert, absentmindedly slapping him on the arm while momentarily forgetting about his possible injuries.

"Whoops. I guess you might still be a little tender.", he rambled as some sort of apology. "Seen any of those Army of Darkness people around? I was fairly sure they'd be gunning for all of us by now."

Marshal sat wondering the same question he had been pondering when he first saw Taggert backstage at the show. Something wasn't quite right about how he remembered him. Sure, he was quick to go along with hastily made plans, but that could probably be easily explained by the fact that Marshal and Jobu were really the only ones Taggert recognized in this hell hole, as far as he knew anyway. Still, why and how exactly he was here had yet to be explained.

[jbt]

Taggert muttered to himself and glanced a moment at Marshal before returning his attention to the situations around the yard. The comment from TJ regarding the Army of Darkness drew him for a moment to stare at one of the groups in particular, but not one that was full of stated Army characters.

"I dunno about them there Army of Darkness folk, but that there group doesn't look any too good, ta tell tha truth."

He pointed toward what appeared to be Damian and a few others gathered surreptitiously together.

"I'll tell ya though. Simply based on what happened before tha show, and our own prior experience with these here sorts of things, I won't be at all surprised ta see some of those Army fellahs comin' right back at us."

Balling up the bandages that were on the table before him, Taggert stood up for a moment and then launched them in one mass upward, smirking as they caught and fluttered on the wire strung along the top of the external yard wall.

"Somethin' ta spice tha place up a bit."

As he sat back down again, Taggert turned to get a better look at the wrestler he'd spent so many years butting heads with in the past.

"So tell me, Marshal. What exactly is this mess of a hell hole, and how in tha hell did you end up here?"

[tjmarshal]

There it was. The question was on the table. In truth, he didn't have an answer to Taggert's question. He'd been trying to figure it out himself. What was he doing here? Was this just a waste of his time? The fact was, however, that that isn't how Taggert had asked it. He wanted something explainable, what lead him here, how he was captured. Even still, Marshal was intent on keeping all of that information hidden until there ever came a time when he needed to use the information. He was fairly confident, however, with the deal he'd made, that he wouldn't have to. All he knew is that he was sure he might not be alone. The place was being monitored day in and day out, and not just by the guard shack. There were other people, with vested interest in those on the inside, and he had a job to do by being here. Even his tag team partner Jobu had no idea why he was here, and with luck, he wouldn't figure it out. For now, he would rely on his ability to make up an excuse, or a story on the fly, and hope he was good enough to get it by without any further digging around. He wasn't too sure how long he could keep Taggert in the dark, but all he knew was, for his own sake, he had to.

"You know how it is. I'm an innocent man, just like everyone else in here.", Marshal muttered, though at least one part of that statement was actually true. "All I know is, I was supposed to meet Jobu somewhere for a drink. He'd texted me a place, I met him there, the next thing you know I'm surrounded by some SWAT team and launched into a van. I woke up here. Come to find out, Jobu's here, and now I see you walking around. How long have you been in here? What'd they get you on? Let me guess. Theft? Wasn't a nightstick store was it?", Marshal grinned, all the while keeping an eye locked in on two guys standing near Damian Darkside, silently tipping his head towards them behind Taggert, knowing he'd get the hint to have a look when he could.

[jbt]

Taggert growled, glancing over toward the group across the yard. Then shook his head at Marshal before pushing himself to his feet.

"I'm not in any kind of mood ta discuss why I'm sittin' here right now...."

"...still trying to figure that out anyway," he whispered under his breath.

"I'm more interested myself in seein' what's up with that there kid that looks like he's walkin' around in a fog. Might help to get more information from him about the crew over there hankerin' fer blood."

Turning, Taggert motioned once toward Marshal before stepping back toward the door Lewys was heading toward.

"Coming?"

[Sponsored content]