The English Encounter (Tag: Drake)

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

For the last few days, all Cobra Jackson Putnum could think about was that strange fellow he had met in the library on accident. It wasn’t like he didn’t mean to run into the older man who happened to be a high profile and had almost given him a hit on the head hard with a book, and it wasn’t like CJ was still wondering about who the man was – the guy was still a mystery to CJ. A Friend – he wondered how someone could be a friend to him if he didn’t even know the man’s name. He had mulled about it, even asking the security dudes what the man’s name was, but it was all pointless. He wasn’t sure of the male, and his mind was almost driving him nuts about it.

So in his free time he tried to make himself go to places where he thought the older man might’ve shown up, but again, it was to no avail. He had tried the rec room, the yard, the library, the cafeteria – hell, even the pool, but the man had never shown up. He was starting to feel a little saddened; sure, he could go look in the high profile rooms, but the guards told him no every time he tried to sneak in, and even more so, it ended up with a trip to his doctor, which, ironically, wasn’t pleasing. So he had spent the majority of the morning pacing – back and forth, back and forth – through the hallways before finding his way back to his bedroom.

He left the door open just slightly, so that if anyone was walking in from the side the door’s hinges were on could peek inside and see that he was sitting on his bed, knees up to his chest, head on them, lost in thought. Almost – almost – miserable. He wanted to know the man’s name; in all honesty, he could still feel the slap that the man gave him – almost like it was now engraved in his skin. Without thinking, his fingers brushed the spot of the hit, lost in thought, not even hearing the footsteps coming down the hallway.

[Drake Constantine]

Drake found himself wandering the halls, accompanied by Jim Titus, with no particular destination in mind. The stocky guard was talking about American football, a mind numbingly dull game if he'd ever seen one but no matter, it pleased the poor bastard to have someone listen to him and Drake's mind was elsewhere. That odd lad he met in the library, CJ, he shared his accent and the chance meeting revealed a mutual interest. Drake enjoyed using and abusing people and this CJ ate it up with a fork and asked for more. He found himself wondering what happened to the boy to break him this way, images of the boy's father backhanding him when he brought him a can of beer or maybe his mother hitting him with a wooden spoon when the chores he did were performed less than immaculately. A grin shot across his face as he filed a mental note to bring it up the next time he happened to see the boy. He had spent the time since meeting him trying to figure out what his brain had been plotting, what was going to be the endgame to all of this? Despite his best efforts he'd been able to come up with nothing, finally realizing that the more he forced it the less he could see in his own mind, best to let it all come naturally.

Drake, where the hell are we headed anyways? I mean we've been wandering for the better part of a half hour now and we haven't gotten any closer to actually going anywhere.

Sorry Jimmy, I had a destination in mind but as soon as you get on about that rubbish football of yours me brain just stopped working, turned me into a bit of a mindless drone.

Oh god, do I wish, you'd be so much easier to handle if you were.

Just take your precious little key ring and show me the one that opens the door to the pharmacy, we'll both have a little peace, eh?

Yeah, and while I'm at it, why don't I just bring you in a gun? You might be slightly less dangerous then. Imagine that, you with a key to the candy sho...

Drake abruptly cuts Jim off, not wanting him to go off on a cliche ridden tirade. Best case scenario he'd block the man's voice out, worst case, he would spend the rest of the day thinking about wanting to strangle him.

Did I tell you about the lad I met? CJ Putnam's his name...

There's something not quite right with that boy. Liking pain? Christ, try getting married.

Give 'im a break Jim, he's just looking for a little attention and affection. I think he's going to start spending a bit of time with us on these fun little outings.

Drake....I don't know if that's such a good ide..

Knowing what came next, Drake proceeded to ignore the motherly chastising that he was currently getting. Subconsciously as soon as he began speaking about CJ his brain had started to lead him towards the low profile wing and since Jim was fully focused on giving his sage like advice, he didn't realize where Drake was taking him. Unfortunately, Drake didn't know what room CJ was in, but figured that a quick pass by he could figure it out.

Come off it Jim, you know this silly little monologue of yours won't matter in the long run, I'm going to do what I'd like and the only thing you can do to try and stop me is run to your little Dr. Lucid, he can do as he'd like, just as he has done, and I'll still be here tomorrow, doing as I please. So save us both some time, let this little lad be me friend like he wants to and help me find his room.

With that last comment Titus finally looked around and realized where they were, where Drake had lead him to.

Aw hell Drake, why do you always have to do this to me?

Because someone needs to spice up your life and I'm the only one that cares enough to stop you from dying of boredom.

You're a character and a half you know that? If you weren't in here, I'd pay 20 bucks to see you do a one man show

While you might enjoy going at it solo, I'm afraid I prefer a companion, a female at that, sorry to ruin your sick little fantasy.

Jim shook his head, letting out a small chuckle as he started down the hallway

Come on you fuckin' prick, his room is right down here.

The two men make their way to the room, the door slightly cracked open. Drake peeked through the crack and noticed CJ, completely lost to the world, rubbing his face where he had slapped him. He slowly made his way to the door and blasted it open with his foot, causing a bang as it hit the wall behind it. Completely caught off guard, CJ looked up, light coming to his eyes as he realized who had caused this commotion.

'ello CJ my boy, you've been very hard to find. I spent the last half hour wandering around with this bloated wind bag trying to figure out just where you were.

Hey, watch your mouth or I'm dragging you back to your room or maybe I'll throw you into a padded cell for a few days.

Isn't he funny when he thinks he's in charge mate?

Shut it with the power trip, the boy knows I'm not afraid of the guards and that he doesn't need to be afraid of them either as long as I'm around. Now you can continue with this course of action if you'd like or you can play nice and we can all be friends here.

You're a real bastard you know that?

That's what I thought.

Drake throws a smile in Jim's direction before turning and approaching CJ. Drake placed his hand on CJ's head as if to tussle his hair but instead began squeezing, digging his fingers into the boy's head. Letting go after a few seconds he took a step back.

Now mate, what's got you all mopey and locked up in your room today?

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

Lost in thought, CJ didn’t even hear the gentle footsteps against the sparkly white linoleum floor, the sounds bouncing off the walls, fading down the hallway, almost like the hallway was devouring the sound, eating it and storing it up to use later. There was a draft in his room – the walls were high, white, clean. Everything was. There wasn’t dirt on the floor, his bed was made with the white pillows, the white sheets and blankets… sometimes he wondered if it was a form of control, to take away their wants, their likes, their own unique things that made them human. CJ didn’t really think about it often, really, but sometimes, when he was trying to get asleep at night, he felt that twisting in his heart, the tense feeling his chest got when he was being controlled by someone, that he was here to be controlled. Everything was controlled for him – his schedule, his doctor, his food, when his bed time was… every choice he had was slowly being taken away and someone was telling him what to do. It didn’t necessarily bother him, mind you, only because he hated having his own thoughts and having to make those decisions, but slowly he felt more and more like a model patient, a mindless zombie that people used and abused – if he did what he was told, he got pain, if he didn’t he’d get nothing. That pain was the one thing that drove him to obeying without any hesitation.

But the footsteps and voices that echoed down the hallway were inexcusable, they weren’t ones that should’ve been there in the first place. CJ, being lost in his world, would’ve normally recognized them as being not low profile patients, and he would’ve heard them in general to know someone was looking for him – as they had said his name and it had seemingly echoed down the virtually empty hallway – but no. He was lost in his mind, wondering, thoughts shooting through his head like there was absolutely no tomorrow. He didn’t even register when the voices approached his door, and then suddenly, the footsteps stopped, the voices shut up, and everything fell silent in the low profile wing. CJ shifted a bit, his fingers tracing over his soft face gently, almost outlining where he could almost imaginarily feel the slap that man – the nameless man. Of course, his mind was wandering, back to that meeting, wondering… strange things passed through his mind – like how dominating that man was, how control seemed to ooze from the man like jelly… everything. CJ wanted to know more – he was a curious fellow, and when the curiosity got to him, he either had to satisfy the curiosity or he’d have to find someone to distract him.

His fingers fiddled mindlessly with his long sleeved shirt – a gold colour with black writing on it. It wasn’t horribly bright, but it wasn’t pale either, and his toes were exposed underneath his pants – normal faded coloured jeans without rips (the staff here wouldn’t let him have his ripped pants), and he was momentarily interested in curling up and sleeping. He shifted a bit to go grab his blankets and curl up, but suddenly, something moved, and for a moment, CJ thought he was seeing things. And then, just as the movement happened, the door flew open and slammed against the wall, making CJ literally jump up in surprise, his eyes looking over a the door, mind stirring at forcing himself out of his little world he had slipped into. Wearing a set of light blue scrubs, and holding himself with dignity walked in the person he was looking for. His eyes grew wide, and he started to stir himself, shifting a little as the man talked. The one thing that really made him squirm a little was the fact this man – the man who knew his name but not vice versa – was looking for him. He reddened a little in the face, his eyes turning down to stare at the floor, “S-sorry… CJ…” he mumbled the last bit, quietly, almost like he wanted to be heard, and yet at the same time, didn’t want to be heard, “CJ was trying to find you…”

He was a bit hopeful that the man who had burst into his room with all the air of superiority hadn’t heard him, as the guard had said something and the man replied, telling him to shut up and then directly told him something about how CJ wouldn’t fear the guards when this man was with him, and then they had a bit more of a fight. CJ wasn’t too sure if he should say anything or not, so he simply kept quiet, eyes focused on the ground, lost in thought of why this man was trying to find him, and why he wanted him. There were plenty of people around in Lucid Manor… why did he want Cobra? Mindlessly, he shifted so that his legs were hanging down over the side of the bed not against the wall, his feet on the ground, hands digging into the mattress as he thought, getting that feeling in his chest again. It sort of worried him, but at the same time, it was the feeling that he felt when Raph was around…

Without realizing anything, the man had stepped up to CJ and the younger boy almost jumped when he felt the gentle first physical contact between the man and himself. He felt the man’s slender fingers in his hair, and he expected something like a pat on the head. Almost nervously, he looked up with his grey eyes to watch the man a bit, feeling the man’s fingers suddenly dig into his scalp. It almost looked as if the man was smirking down at him as CJ moaned a bit, biting his lip, falling into that wanting mode. The contact made CJ forget how much he wanted his pain, how much he needed it, and suddenly, this man was the person who would happily give it to him, but only if he was good and listened, almost like he was a trained dog. The pressure stopped and the man pulled away almost quickly, stepping back from CJ – almost unconsciously, the boy almost followed, leaning forward. If he didn’t stop himself, he would’ve fallen from the bed onto his knees and followed the man who promised the pain when the stupid guard – who was somehow still standing near the doorway, looking down the hallway – wasn’t looking. CJ honestly would’ve followed and found his head against the older man’s thighs, using them as a pillow, a way of affection to make sure he knew that CJ was his almost, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was – after all, he wasn’t told to do anything just yet.

The man – the one who had automatically gained virtually all of CJ’s attention in a simple action, spoke to him, asking what had gotten CJ so mopey and locked up in his room for. CJ was quiet, thinking for a brief moment – if he was honest with this man, then he might get more pain, but if he was dishonest, he’d get pain too, probably. CJ wasn’t a liar, though – he couldn’t tell a lie unless it was a sneaky one for his own amusement, one that literally almost dragged on and on and ate away at him until he showed up to the person he lied to, tears running down his face, apologizing. He wasn’t allowed to lie – if he lied to Raph, he wouldn’t get pain. It was almost like the “NO LYING” thing was solidified in his head just from his doctor. So, the only thing to be was truthful to this man who seemed to have all the reason to poke and prod Cobra Jackson’s mind, even if it was numb and mindless half the time, simply a thing to keep him living but used mostly from other’s amusements. CJ bit his lip, eyes turning to the ground, “CJ was… looking for you, sir…” he admitted, quietly, a little unsure of how the man would take it, “CJ was… looking for you to ask what your name was. CJ never got your name when we first met… it bothered CJ,” he was unmoving for a moment before he returned his gaze to the man’s face, “CJ apologizes if he made you angry though, sir, because you couldn’t find CJ. CJ was being a good boy. CJ’s always a good boy…” he had unconsciously slipped into his third person without realizing it, a submissive habit that had always become natural when he was speaking to a person with more power over him than he had himself. And this man – the nameless man who had slapped him across the face, shared the same accent and almost the same origins as him – had all the control in the room at the moment. And Cobra Jackson wasn’t one to just ignore those people more powerful than him at all.


(-sigh- I apologize at how long winded this post is. And ftr. 1,500 words even. >.<)

[/justify]

[Drake Constantine]

The boy began stammering his way through an answer, once again creating genuine joy in Drake. The fact that this boy so easily rolled over, the fact that he was so skittish that he could hardly speak brought happiness to him for reasons that very few could admit. He loved the control, he wanted to keep this boy around to brighten up this droll existence that he had found his way into. This boy was the catalyst, the beginning to some excitement that remained a mystery but the first step towards figuring it out was this, the second meeting. Upon hearing that the boy had been looking for him, a smile spread across Drake's face, he had his hooks dug into this boy.

I'm sorry me lad, it quite simply slipped my mind. The name is Drake.

CJ immediately began silently mouthing the name over and over to himself so as not to forget it.

And this meat pie of a man is James Titus, you can just call him Jim though. He's a guard but he's not like the rest, he won't make you want to slit his throat unless he starts going off about his silly American football.

Silly? At least we don't have grown men prancing around, taking dives every three minutes!

See? He's a few drops short of a pint when it comes to conversation but he's a genuinely good person.

Oh great, the maniac gives me a positive review, I'm ecstatic...

Drake looked back to CJ and realized he was staring intently at the two men, suddenly realizing that he had gotten wrapped up in his usual nonsense with Jim and completely left CJ out of it. An idea slowly formed in his head. Deciding to see just how far CJ would go just for the promise of pain.

CJ, Jim is a good man, you can have fun with him just like I do.

That's just what I need, two of you in the same place, I don't think so. Drake, I tolerate it from you because to be completely honest that's just the easiest way to deal with you but just because you've made your first friend doesn't mean I'm going to turn into a doormat.

Is that so? What will you do to him then? Are you going to hit him? Beat him with your flashlight? Maybe break a finger or two of his? Hell, why not get real serious and put him straight in the infirmary, broken bones, cuts, bruises, the whole deal?

W...well no, but I can't le...

Drake spins around and looks at CJ who was staring intently at the interaction between the two men.

There's my point, my entire point. He's not going to hurt you, he's not going to give you pain. However, if you insult him, it doesn't have to be anything great, clever or particularly deep cutting, but if you insult him I will. I'll give you some pain CJ, my brain is an encyclopedia of exotic forms of torture. I'm willing to share it all with you and all you need to do is dish out one simple insult.

Drake, you can't...

Why, stepping on your toes lad? I've been dealt far worse than anything I could ever do to him and I'm well aware that if I do anything to cross the line that you'll stop me but this seems to be the only way I can get me friend CJ to relax so I can talk with him. Now shut your mouth, I believe the boy has something to say.

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

To say the least, it would be a lie to say that CJ wasn’t a little nervous in the presence of this man of this – Drake. He stared at the man as he said his name, his eyes wide with almost… not fear, but anticipation, “Drake…” he repeated quietly, over and over, putting the name to the face. If he didn’t, he’d forget names – he’s bad with those – but that way, he would remember. He mumbled the name probably a hundred times as Drake and the man – uh… Jim - there was a patient who went by that name, if CJ knew his patients right – started to go off about something American. CJ didn’t understand the games the Americans played – growing up in England with his British father probably didn’t exactly help. He momentarily look frustrated as he tried to keep up with their conversation about soccer or something (to CJ, football is still soccer, which honestly confused the hell out of him). Suddenly, Drake seemed to realize that he was thrown out of the conversation, and he went wide eyed a little, turning nervous.

Suddenly, he kind of felt on spot and shifted, his eyes turning down to stare at the ground for a long moment, feeling Drake’s eyes on him, before the older man spoke, saying how he could have fun with the security guard. He watched them – more so Drake than the guard – carefully as they seemed to have yet another bickering conversation, his eyes widening and focusing completely on the other man as he started suggesting things like hitting CJ, or beating with hard objects or breaking fingers and stuff like that. It was almost an instant attention grabber, and CJ didn’t even hear the man’s reaction before Drake spun around, eyes looking down at him, and expressing that if he insulted this security guard, he’d hurt CJ – and that he was like an encyclopedia of pain. Almost instantly, the older man had CJ in his trap, completely focused on him, just by those little words, “Okay sir…” CJ mumbled, his eyes never once leaving Drake as his head tilted to the side gently.

He ignored this Jim’s statement, and thoroughly more so what Drake was saying to him. He was caught by the man, and for the pain he’d do everything he could. Silently, he stood up and stepped around Drake, his head tilted to the side still, studying Jim with almost in-a-trance look in his eyes. He was, in a way, in a trance. Even though he stood at six feet, he seemed smaller in general with his personality. Sometimes, he forgot how tall he was himself. Relaxed, with eyes trained on the security guard, the silence seemed to build up around them, “You’re an egotistical asshole,” he said, his accent slipping through the façade he always tried to be on, “you complain about our games in England, but your country is the worst country to play in, needing all of those pads and helmets and stuff. ‘Football’ – not soccer – your football, is a cheap imitation of how real men play sports – it’s just a cheap imitation of Rugby. I’d like to see your pathetic ass play that,” he said, coldly, eyes trained sharply on the security guard, completely lost in the moment.

[/justify]