The Struggle Within

Twisted through a life filled with evils, abuse and deaths all around him, Jackson Blaze's life is retold from his days as a child till his brutal days in professional fighting.

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1. A Perfect Family pt1

11.22.1988

A father and his young son are tossing a football to one another, outside of their 1979 Dodge B200 Landmark Van Conversion. Another young boy, a few years old than the one tossing football, stands near the van pumping gas into the tank. "Hey dad!" he yells out from the back side of that van, causing his dad to stop tossing football, bringing the attention fully on him.

Dad: Mikey. What’s up back there? Everything going ok?

Mikey smiled at his dad and excitedly raised a thumbs up at him, as he started to pull the nozzle from the tank.

Mikey: Yeah, dad. Just finished it.

Mikey slides the gas nozzle back into its resting spot on the gas pump. “See, dad, I told you I could do it”, he calls out, turning back towards his dad.

Mikey: I may only be 10 now, but I’ll be a man soon, dad.

His dad partially cracks a smile.

Dad: There's no doubt about that, son. You're definitely turning into a man on me quicker than I expected you to. Next thing you know, little Jackson will be growing into a man on us as well.

Both sets of eyes turn towards the direction of the precocious 5 year old, who is now seeming as carefree as he should be, as he's chasing around a small butterfly over a small patch of grass near the van. Mikey and his dad both simultaneously start to chuckle.

Dad: Well... Maybe not quite yet.

Their dad reaches into his pocket, fumbling his fingers around momentarily until they final fish out a set of keys hooked to a Chevy Van keychain. He tosses the keys to the waiting hands of his son, Mikey.

Dad: Since you're turning into an adult on me, Mikey, why don't you man the van until Jackson and I go inside to pay for the gas. You can find us a good song on the radio while we're in there. Jack, you ready to go inside with me?

Jackson nods with a huge smile and runs to his father, grasping his huge fingers with the smallness of his entire hand. Their dad smiles at his youngest son as he starts to lead him from the gas pump area to the small convenience store next to it to pay the cashier for the gas. As the start towards the door the see a line of about 6 motorcycles lined up near the entrance. Each bike a parked and riderless, except for one red one with a very large, shirtless man, covered in homemade tattoos. The man stares towards the two, giving them a very menacing glare with a slight snarl. Young Jackson backs up abit, gripping his fathers finger even tighter. His dad puts a free hand on Jackson's shoulder comforting him. "It's ok, Jack. Let's go get this done so we can leave," the father says, tugging the young boy's arm slightly, pulling his focus away from the biker.

Inside the gas station, Jackson seems to have forgotten the scarey man from outside, as he now runs happily through the ailes of the small store, searching the shelves. He quickly stops near the back of the store, his eyes set on a display of roses. An innocent smile forms on his lips, as he pulls a single rose from the display, quickly pulling it under his nose. "Yeah.... mommy will like this", he lightly whispers to himself.

He quickly strolls back to the front of the store, hoping his father will be just as happy as he was at getting the rose, but stops dead as he gets near the front and the checkout desk. Standing behind the cash register, Jackson catches sight of another biker from one ofthe vacant bikes outside. A tall man with long black hair, nearing 6'4, covered head to toe in jailhouse tattoos, he's holding a young teen cashier in a chokehold. From the look of a total depletion of focus in his eyes, you could tell the biker was tightly squeezing the life from the teenage boy's body. A second biker, much shorter with less muscle mass and a shaven bald head stands on the opposite side of the cash register aiming the barrels of a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun at the same boy who's being choked by his partner.

Bald Biker: Just tell my friend how to open the fucking thing and we're gone, son.

The more muscular biker squeezes tighter on the cashier's neck as the young kid gives a look of nearly passing out from fear and the loss of oxygen to his brain. But, the cashier never speaks with his short life flashing before his eyes. The gun-totting biker gets even more aggrivated rom the lack of a response, he shakes his head in the near lifeless cashiers direction, his eyes starting to glaze over.

Bald Biker: A simple fucking answer...

He quickly turns the sights from the cashier to young Jackson's father, who is standing off to the right side, hands held into the air with little Jackson clung tightly to the bag of his shirt in fear. One trigger pull and a deafening sound of the gunshot ringing out in Jackson's tiny ears later, he opens his eyes to see the horrid sight of his father dropped down, laying in a crimson pool of blood. His forehead had been shattered from the shot with small sections of his skull and brain tissue stuck to the wall behind where, Jackson now stood, frozen. Terrified. The biker quickly spins back around, bring his attention once again solely on the cashier.

Bald Biker: ...and nobody would've had to die in here.

He jerks the gun forward again, aiming it in the direction of the still clinging to life cashier.

Bald Biker: This is all your fucking fault. Remember that.

Jackson jerks back to his animated self after being locked in the frozen state of fear and rushes toward his dead father, dropping to his knees, allowing the single rose to fall into the pool of blood now pooled up around his father. A rush of tears fill his face as he grips his arms around what's left of his father's head. The tears intensify as he pulls his face from being buried in his father's remains to now seeing that bald biker pointing the barrels of that same shotgun in his direction once again. A flicker of a demented joy flares the bikers eyes as he speaks to Jackson in a cold, dead tone.

Bald Biker: Like father; like son, junior...

A wicked smiles dances through across the biker's lips as he winks at Jackson before pulling the trigger once more. Jackson drops down, shaking intensely with the biker laughing at him in a very taunting way.

Bald Biker: Must be your lucky day, kid. Cant say as much for your daddy though, can we

Jackson, realizing he hadn't been shot, looks back up just in time to see the two bikers leaving the store with beer and cash in hand. Jackson, however, can't move. Motionless he stays, clinging to his lifeless father's blood-covered shirt.

 

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