Dead To Me [Jason and Julius -- Fallout V]

---

One night could change the course of someone’s career, whether they asked for it or not, whether they tried their best or they didn’t, whether their efforts proved them to be the better man or not, coming out of Fallout with the perfect victory was something that even Jason himself was prepared for. After the ending of Fallout IV, it was very clear that Jason’s head was cleared and set -- he wanted the Project: Honor Prime Championship, he wanted Drago Santiago, and he got his wishes.

“Sweetheart, you’re daydreaming again.” A voice broke the silence within his office, that voice of course belonged to Savannah as she stood within the doorway of the office. A smile on her face as she takes a few steps into the room. “I know that you’re excited about the box of cookies with your face on it. It’s going to be looking sooo good with your face on them. The best face that could ever be on those boxes of cookies.”

Savannah says all of this as Jason just glances down onto his desk, right of his arm is the same box of cookies that’ll have his face on the box soon once it’s revealed on the next episode of Fallout. They’re raspberry flavoured, and as it has been noted before to be the one flavour that Jason absolutely hates with a burning passion in his body.

“You know, I’ve sat here for a while now just staring at this packet of cookies,” he says as he picks up the packet in question. “-and even though I said I hated these, I think they’re alright. I mean, they’re not something I’d have on a regular basis and I really wished I could be on the box of some other flavour of my choosing, but this is fine, I like these. Again, they’re alright. Not worth winning a Tables Battle Royal for though, I can assure you that.”

“But they’re still nice, right?”

Jason couldn’t get over that soft spoken tone of hers, it’s like his massive weakness against her. The one thing that keeps him at bay was just hearing that voice -- and he couldn’t lie to her like that, it was damn impossible to.

“They sure are, darling. It’s just the thing of getting used to that flavour, you know?” A smile soon appeared on his face. “How are you feeling though? How’s your face? Didn’t seem to burn you that much, at least you’ll be fine for that main event match.”

“I guess you’re right, burned a few split hairs but that’s about it really. Though I’m nervous about things ahead, the Candyland Deathmatch and then the Outlaw Championship match, and even this main event with the biggest competitors on Fallout right now.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s a lot to get through but I do have hope, that’s something I always have… as long as I’m with you.”

“You know I’ll be there for you, always will be.”

Savannah’s smile grows larger with his words. “I know that, baby. I know. I’ll be there for you as well. This is a big time for you too. Everything will soon be worth it in the end. I promise. I love you.”

“And I love you too, angel. Now, try and get some sleep, we’ve got a flight to get to in the morning, remember?”

There’s a bit of a sigh coming from Savannah, not too pleased with the travels and maybe bored of the world tour that seemingly Project: Honor is on. Both are probably just wanting to stay in America for some shows instead of travelling, even someone like Savannah who loved to travel wss getting tired from all the jet lag. “...do we have to fly all the way out to Brazil?”

“I mean we could just stay here and tell them to fuck off, but at the moment, I’d love to just get my hands on both Pyro and Nathan,” he exclaims. “My focus, at the moment, is on them. I want them and I want their blood on my hands. When he hit me with that Red Wedding, I realised what I was getting into. I knew I wasn’t facing just some man with a devious plan to turn on everyone he knew.”

“Just don’t get too crazy out there, save your energy for Drago at the title match. You’ll need it there, baby.”

“Of course, darling, I know that all too well. I got to adapt more than reserve. Change things up than to keep it all the same. Nathan’s like that. I have to keep him on his toes.”

Slightly tapping his head, right on the temple, but there’s something not sitting right with Savannah. It’s a difficult match for Jason to partake in and as someone who knows first hand how violent and dangerous these men he calls opponents are -- she fears for his safety.

“Is that really worth it?” That literal worry in her voice caught his attention. “Like I want you to beat their butts all over the ring, and I’ll be happy to see it happening, but I don’t want you to get too hurt. I don’t want to see you go through so much pain like before. Whether that be physically or mentally.”

“I understand that, baby, but there’s no need to worry. I’m fine with Nathan, and Julius has Pyro all figured out. Which reminds me, I gotta meet up with the dude sometime when we get to Brazil, hopefully he’s not too busy, I rather not be disturbing his business -- whatever it might be.”

“Isn’t he the guy with the afro from some eighties movie and says m ‘effer a lot?”

The King gives off a chuckle. “Motherfucker? Yeeep. That’s the one.”

“Lovely.” There’s clearly sarcasm in the tone she took when speaking about Julius Fairweather. Again, another deep sigh taken. “I guess I’ll get my bags ready, we’ll head out in the morning. Get some sleep too.”

“That’s okay, my love.” Savannah leans down and pecks Jason on the lips with a soft kiss, a smile grows on both of the couple’s faces as their lips meet with one another's. “Sleep tight. I’ll be in there shortly once I’m done with these papers.”

Her smile was enough of an answer as she soon heads out of the room, leaving Jason to be alone in his office once again, but The King had other plans as he stood up from his desk with that same packet of girl scout cookies in his hand. Now, he didn’t lie to Savannah -- he thought they tasted alright to him, which was a cool experiment to try before Fallout happens on Thursday -- but that packet of girl scout cookies? He didn’t want them near him any more, opting to throw them into the bin as he closed the lid right behind him.

“I fuckin’ hate raspberries.”

---

---

Pyro…

It was a simple name to describe a not-so-simple person, and while he’d never let it show, it was a name that had gotten underneath the thick skin of Julius Fairweather.

Pyro...

At first, it had been little more than a game, someone to play cat and mouse with, not unlike how he had targeted James Edgebrook. Then, somewhere along the way, it went from an occasional battle of words and chance meetings in multi-person matches into a more personal issue.

Pyro…

The echo of it woke Julius up from his already restless sleep in his Brazilian hotel room, stabbing at him as if it were a sharp object hidden within his mattress. Why did he hate Pyro? Why did Pyro hate him just as much? Julius sat up in bed and glanced over at the soft caramel skin of the woman who’d kept him company the night before. She had provided a nice distraction from his thoughts, only for them to re-emerge when he let his defenses down. Hoping to ease his mind, Julius reached to the bedside table where he had left the previous night’s half-smoked blunt and his Zippo lighter. With a simple flick of his thumb, he attempted to light up but found himself transfixed by the flame that danced before his eyes.

Pyro…

“Motherfucker…”

Julius mumbled to himself, just loud enough to cause the naked woman in his bed to stir restlessly. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes drawn to Julius’ face, illuminated by the flickering flame.

“Whassa matta, papi?”

He turned his head as he snapped the lighter shut, his thoughts still focused elsewhere, making it difficult for him to remember her name.

“Nothin’ you can help with. Go back to sleep…”

There was an awkward pause near the end of his sentence, the kind that suggested he had thought about adding her name if he had been able to remember it.

“...Julia?”

He didn’t mean to say it like a question, but it came out that way nonetheless. It was a slip that convinced his companion to sit up in bed, covering her torso with the sheet.

“You...don’t know my name?”

“Of course I do, sweetness.”

“Then...what is it?”

Julius put on his best suave smile as he looked at the young woman and desperately searched the confines of his memory.

“...Isabella?”

Clearly he had chosen poorly, as the woman glared at him in the dim light and immediately rolled out of the bed.

“Sophia! You prick!”

“Hell yeah, baby! Sophia! I knew it ended with an “a”! Ain’t that enough?”

She was already getting dressed by the time he responded, and although he was tempted to smooth things over when he saw her jeans slide over those Brazilian hips, he found himself not wanting to put in the effort. Instead, Julius kept silent as she threw on her top, picked up her heels and purse, and furiously cursed at him in her native Portugese. Shel left his room moments later, ending their brief tryst with the slamming of a door. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to Julius, and it was likely that it wouldn’t be the last. Truth be told, he was already thinking of other things. Left alone in the darkness, rubbing the smooth metal of his lighter between his fingers, it wasn’t the young woman’s name that was disturbing him. It was another name…

Pyro…

---

---

Julius knew that he wouldn’t find rest until he was able to get Pyro off his mind. Fortunately, he knew just the person who might share in his hatred, and as fate would have it, they were scheduled to be tag team partners on the upcoming Fallout. After a quick text message, Jason Long agreed to meet Julius at a nearby bar, where they could savor the flavors of Brazil and compare notes on their upcoming opponents.

“Mate, I appreciate the honesty in choosing this time to talk to me but did we have to pick some weird fuckin’ bar in the middle of the fuckin’ favelas!?”

“Hey man, sometimes if you want to get a feel for a place, you’ve got to live the place. You know what I’m sayin’?”

“Understandably so, but are you even aware of what the favelas of Brazil are like? Gang warfares, crimes, rape, drugs, gun violence- the list goes on, we might not make it outta here alive son.”

“You know I grew up in Detroit, right? And not the good part. Besides, we’re about to go to war with a pair of Grade-A scumbags, so a place like this could make for good motherfucking practice.”

“Maybe you’re right, sometimes playing too much Call of Duty back in the day made me a little bit nervous about being here, but as long as you’re sure we’re safe right now, I think we can be fine.”

“Hell yeah. We’re just two motherfuckers having a few drinks while we figure out how bad we wanna hurt two other motherfuckers. We cool.”

The bar they were in was run down to the ground almost, the only thing probably holding it up was planks of wood and bits of sheet metal laying around from someone’s rooftop. Jason was on the edge of his seat the entire time, whereas Julius? Calm as a motherfucker.

“Right, so this match… I assume you got your hands on Pyro, and I got my hands on Nathan.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan to me. I owe that crispy motherfucker for keeping my ass up at night. He’s like a goddamn parasite, crawling under my skin an’ shit. I’ll handle my end of the bargain, and I know you can handle yours. The most important thing is that we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“Of course, because Nate will fuckin’ pull us apart as much as he wants, it’s how he manipulates and tortures his opponents. I’ve seen him do it before in the ring when I was his tag partner, never been on the opposite side of the spectrum with him -- this is different territory for me. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Sounds like a good reason for us to tear him apart before he gets the motherfucking chance to do it to us. They’ve got their little ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’ thing going on, but you an’ me can start putting some cracks between Drago and Pyro like we’re the hottest motherfucking jocks in their high school!”

“It might not be that easy, and Nathan’s not some brush off either, trying to take him out first is a horrible mistake people tend to create every time. You leave that bastard for last and you cut the cunt’s head off with a final blow. I’m not new to his liking, Julius, so at least listen to me -- as someone who knows everything he can do in that ring. Remember the last time someone thought of taking him out at first was a good idea? That four way dance y’all did? How did that end up after because as far as I can see, he came back and retained the title.”

“Yeah, I ain’t gonna forget that anytime soon. You know the motherfucker better than me so I’m willing to follow your lead. As far as Pyro goes, I’ve got something in mind to take him out of the motherfucking equation when Disputed Territory comes rollin’ around. We’ll both do our parts to soften those motherfuckers up the best we can, and when it’s all said and done, your ass is gonna have a shiny new belt to rub in his motherfucking face.”

“If your way of sorting out Pyro is with a metal bucket of water, then maybe we need to do more planning out for this match. Might just bash his fuckin’ skull in with it, how about that?”

“Shit, motherfucker! That’s all you had to say!”

Julius raises his dirty glass of mysterious alcohol for a quick toast, and after eyeing his own drink suspiciously, Jason accepts the gesture.

“Mate… that looks like fuckin’ poision.”

“Hell yeah, it does. But what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger!”

“...yeah, that’s the problem, that could fuckin’ kill us before the match.”

With Jason’s words making a lot of sense, Julius takes a moment to sniff at the contents of his glass. He immediately makes a sour face and sets it back on the table.

“Motherfuckers can’t serve Hennessy in this joint?”

“Or even a bit of Jack Daniel’s… apparently that’s a bit too much for a shithole like this.”

Jason and Julius’ complaints do not escape the notice of the bartender, who quietly makes his displeasure known to a pair of rough looking locals seated at the bar. It doesn’t take long for Jason to feel the strangers’ eyes on him, and he nudges Julius with his elbow.

“Oi, mate. I think we might have been a little bit too loud with our words.”

Julius picks something out of his glass and then looks towards the men at the bar.

“Wait until they hear me bitchin’ about this motherfucking fly in my motherfucking glass!”

“You know, when you told me to meet you in some run down bar in the favelas, I didn’t expect a fuckin’ fight to break out.”

“Well I guess expecting the unexpected is good practice when we’ve got Drago and Pyro to look forward to. You ready to do this shit?”

Jason blankly stared at Julius, and then to the three men that are circling around the duo, rolling his eyes before looking back at Julius.

“Welp, fifty bucks if you knock a fuckin’ tooth out, mate.”

And with those words spoken, Jason leaps off of the barstool and lands a boot right to the jaw of the closest person to him, knocking him to the ground. Not to be outdone, Julius pounces off his own barstool, targeting the man closest to him with a hard right uppercut. Jason’s focus is soon turned to the man left standing, firing off one Superkick that connects on the jaw with the man as it knocks him back into Julius. Without missing a beat, Julius hooks the man’s arms behind his back and flips him to the barroom floor with a double-underhook takedown.

“Nice fuckin’ shit, mate. But watch this one, gonna be a knockout blow.”

Jason takes a few steps back, seeing the man he took down at first with a boot as he got to his hands and knees, in the line of sight of Jason as he charges in and connects a hard Punt Kick right to the head of the man. The thud was loud enough to echo throughout the bar, and the impact of the kick leaves the man convulsing on the floor.

“I do like your motherfucking style, Jason Long! My turn!”

Julius eyes the first man he took down with a punch, and as he starts to get to his feet, Julius leaps into the air with a roundhouse kick against the side of the man’s head. As one of the man’s teeth go flying through the air, he falls onto his face alongside his convulsing friend.

“...shit, that’s a tooth. I guess that’s fifty bucks I owe you then.”

“How about double or nothing to whichever one of of us gets the fall on Drago or Pyro?”

“If you get the pin, it's a hundred big ones. I get the pin, it’s fuckin’ nothing for you.”

“Deal, but I’ll be just as happy to see you put either of those motherfuckers down for the count.”

“I would feel the same if you did too- now let’s get the fuck outta here before they bring others in, and I doubt they’d come unarmed, mate.”

Julius nods his head in agreement, but before he joins Jason in heading for the door, he stops to pick up the fallen man’s knocked out tooth.

“Just a little souvenir for our night out in the favelas…”

“Better than a fuckin’ bullet in our heads.”

The two make a quick dash out the door of the bar as they make their way out of the favelas of Brazil, ending their night with a good luck charm in the form of some Brazilian man’s tooth.

---