Dark Soul And Rocky

Rocky's tale of Faith & Love

As I sat in the smoky backroom, working on my bottle of Jack, I couldn't shake the feeling that returning to the States for this tour was a mistake. My bandmates were having the usual fun. Malice (Ed) the drummer had gone off with a husband and wife to have fun. Merciless (Matt), my bassists was a getting a blow job by a voluptuous brunette in the corner while smoking and drinking. Anarchy (Leo), on lead guitar was on a nice looking blonde at the time.

Me, I'm Jake, or as the world currently knows me, Dark Soul. I'm the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of the band Darks Soul and the Happy Demon's Dance Party. I wasn't partaking in the depravity like my bandmates. I set down the glass and turned to the mirror to remove the white, black and red makeup I wore. The make up was something of a demonic clown kicked in the balls, some kid once said. He wasn't far from it, my life felt like a kick in the balls that was so hard it shattered my heart. It's been just over ten years, and I still haven't gotten my head straight. All I did was run, and somehow I ended back to where it started in Los Angeles, California.

Finished removing my mask, I put on my bucket hat and leather jacket. Finishing off my Jack, I turn and head out. As I walk to the bus the cool spring air was refreshing. As I neared the tour bus I could tell it was rocking. Ed was insatiable, and I knew where he had ended up. From the sounds of it, he had picked up a few more "friends" along the way.

I sighed and turned looking for a taxi or something to get me to the hotel we had booked for the night. I saw Rocky, my long time friend and worst roadie ever. He was the only one that knew the whole story and had helped me from totally losing it. If it wasn't for him, the darkness would have won out and consumed me. To be honest, it was his marriage that gives me hope, but I have to tackle my demons first

He came over to me seeing I was looking for a way out.

"Looks like the heathens are partaking in dark pleasures", he said. Oh yeah, Rocky is horribly religious. Kind of the paradox to me and the band.

"Yeah Rock, I need a way out."

"You okay, Jake?" He had real concern in his voice. I'm sure he saw my discomfort. He knew the tale, but I don't think he thought the impact being back would have on me. I didn't.

"Not sure my friend. Thinking coming back is a bad idea. I thought I was finally healing, but as soon as we landed it all came back."

"Don't be like that. It's been over ten years. She could be dead for all you know. Besides, no one knows who Dark Soul is. You lay low, avoid interviews, and let the guys run interference if anyone gets too close. She listened to country music anyway, from what you told me. She would hear one song, and run to church. I know I do every Sunday." As he spoke he grabbed my shoulder.

I looked him in the eyes. "Thank you Robert. I thought I was over getting past it. Why I let you all talk me into this. As soon as we landed I realized I just buried things deep, but not deep enough. I swear, I thought I saw her at the airport and about lost it. Knew for sure then this was a mistake. Need to get this tour over and back under my rock".

"Man you are serious. You never call me Robert. Come on. There is a limo waiting for you guys. I know they will be a while, so take it back to the hotel, and get drunk, and get your head clear. This roller coaster is just beginning."

Rocky (Robert) walked me to the limo and saw me off. He was right, I never called him Robert unless things were bad. He was born Robert Kennedy Smythe. He earned the nickname in high school from being so good at boxing. He even trained for the Olympics, and could have went pro. Just before graduation his father was killed in the line of duty. His father was a good Irish Catholic Office in New York. There was a robbery, his father pursued, and the bad guys got the jump on him and his partner. Rocky's father jumped in front of his younger partner, saving his partner, but losing his life. His father got one bad, and his partner the other, but only because Rocky's father was so selfless, did the younger officer make it out. The partner got to go home to his newborn son, while Rocky lost his father.

I didn't meet Rocky until years later in the military. From what he told me, he lost his faith and his life was a downward spiral. Friends of his father, and his family (particularly his mother) fought hard for him to get his head straight, but nothing was working. Finally they had enough and couldn't keep bailing him out. They gave him a choice, the priesthood or the military. Fortunate for me he chose the military.

As I got out of the limo and headed into the hotel and my room, I thought of Rocky's faith. I am nowhere near religious. I am more of a "Star Wars" type of guy. There is some greater force out there, we come from it and go back to it, but it doesn't require a weekly subscription, and sure as hell doesn't give a damn about us. The Force cares about us, as much as a river does a fish. It may not be my beliefs, but I whole heartedly supported and respected Rocky for his loyalty to his religion. Even when he wavered he kept the faith. He might not think he did, but I do, ametuer psychologist I am. To me he didn't have anywhere to release his anger until the military, where his faith was truly tested, and as he puts it, he saw God's light. Personally I think it was the bullet to the helmet he was wearing that rattled his gray matter, but that's my cynicism.

As faithful as he is to his God, he is equally loyal to his friends, wife, and kids. I am not sure how he manages it, but he has the most solid marriage I have ever seen. My own marriage crash and burned faster than a meteor to earth. I'm not saying Rocky has had an easy go with married life, but he held strong, and didn't lose his mind like I did.

I looked at the bottles of liquor set up for me on the table. Tequila sounded good, so I grabbed the bottle and glass, and headed out to the balcony. Sitting down, I took a shot of the tequila. The sweet burn as it went down and the warmth that washed over me didn't do anything for my mood. I stared out over the lights of the city seeing the dark of the ocean just past. I found solace in the dark. The lights flickering reminded me too much of the lights in my life that had betrayed me or been lost. Staring into the dark, I could hear the call, but distant. I wanted to go to it, feel its embrace and leave the pain once and for all. The time wasn't yet. Not sure how I knew, I just knew. I've come close, too close perhaps, but I wouldn't fight it. The dark didn't want me yet, else I wouldn't be here.

My thoughts were still on Rocky. I couldn't be friends with someone more opposite. We joined the military for opposite reasons. He was in a dark place and needed to find an outlet for his rage. I was looking to better my life for my pregnant fiancee and myself. He was frontline, I was behind the scenes tech. Just as he started to get his head straight, mine was falling apart. He threw his life in harms way to save others, much like his father. I was throwing my life in harms way to do damage, more to myself than others.

When I awoke in a hospital in Germany, I just lay there. Staring at the ceiling seething in anger and despair. I wasn't awake long, recovering from the surgery to remove the shrapnel, and bullets, was taxing on ones body. When I was awake all I heard was prayer, and religious singing. I was disappointed, I was dead and there was a hell. Now maybe the pain would stop.

The only problem was I wasn't dead and the pain wasn't stopping. To clarify, the drugs were helping with the physical pain. The problem was they wouldn't give me alcohol to deal with the emotional pain.

When I healed enough to sit up and look around, I could finally see my tormentor. I couldn't make much out of how he looked. His head was bandaged, left arm in a cast (he was to the right of me), and legs covered (it was hospital after all. The cold heals apparently). What I could see of his ugly mug was the most piercing green eyes, freckles and pale skin. My guess would be Irish, and I was right.

He saw me glaring at him, and spoke, "I'm Robert Kennedy Smythe, friends call me Rocky. Appears you and I are in the same boat. Seems we aren't bullet proof after all. I have a few more weeks of healing before they release me. I hear same with you. Until then we are a bit of roommates. Please don't mind my singing. Know it's not good, but not much to do here, and you seem to have the better drugs. Guess it comes with having the worst injuries. Who might you be?"

"Jake", I replied.

"Not much of a talker are you?" he asked. As he spoke he had a certain happiness to his tone. I wanted to puke.

The good thing about being awake more, was I entertained by Robert...er...Rocky. The prayer, and psalms stopped, and he prattled on about his life. Not much I could do. Just lay there and stew, but the droning for some reason helped. We also were getting visitors. The people we saved were very thankful. They were friends before, afterwards, they seemed to be devoted followers. I listened, thanked them, and told them it was nothing, they would do the same. If they knew the reasons I decided to become a target, they may change their opinion. Looking in their eyes, not sure, something there, thought it best to not say anything.

On the other side, my roommate seemed better at dealing with thing. His visitors were very much the same. The difference, was mine got some small talk, thanks, it was nothing, his visitors, got hugs, prayers, handshakes, and promises.

The visitors died off. Mine faster than his. Once again we were alone with each other. He continued to talk to me more, and oh my, share.

I found out things about him. Growing up catholic in New York, with 5 younger siblings (all girls), his father the police officer, hero, and martyr. His boxing career until he broke down, and enlisted in the army. Then he got to a part that interested me, his wife, and his up and down battle with the darkness. A battle he seemed to have won because of his wife, and a battle I was resigned to lose because of mine.

Rocky's wife was more Irish Catholic than him. Kind of helps she was from Ireland. He met her on leave one weekend. Apparently Rocky was on a mission in Afghanistan. Thinks went bad fast, and they were ordered to retreat. Rocky didn't have it in him to retreat, die maybe. Grabbing a fellow comrades gun, he went John Wayne with all guns blazing. Apparently there is a limit to crazy the army can officially tolerate. That day Rocky crossed it. The day Rocky spoke of, he swore the armor of God (puke) was around him. Bullets missed him, shrapnel was nowhere near him, he fought off hand to hand attacks with the ease of Bruce Lee.

When the smoke settled, half his squad was injured, but no casualties. The baddies, not a one breathing. The mission, a success. Disobeying direct orders, not the smartest career move. After a reprimand, threat of discharge, imprisonment, and all kinds of unpleasantries, he was given a medal, and a two week pass to get his head straight before he got it blown off.

He said something was clearing in his head. The blind rage that fueled his heroics, albeit stupid, rampage was released. His feud with God was coming to an end. During the debrief, he saw the area he passed through to get to his target. There was no way a mortal man could have survived it without divine intervention. Yeah right, puke.

One of the guys in his platoon was heading to Ireland. He asked Rocky if he wanted to tag along, and Rocky was all for it. Once in Ireland, they did what everyone does in Ireland, head to a pub. That is where Rocky met his red headed ball of pure Irish fury. Not my words his.

As Rocky and his buddy were enjoying the drink, and fishing around for some female companionship, a woman barely five foot tall, blazing green eyes, fiery red hair, petite but well proportioned body, came bursting in. Now most men win their women by saving them from the horrible monster threatening them. In this case Rocky saved the target of this Irish fireballs rage. The petite hellion was being cheated upon, and needed a pound of flesh to soothe her hurt feelings. Something in Rocky he repressed came to surface, love.

He told me he cannot explain why he did what he did in that pub any more than he could explain how he survived the mission he ran headlong into. No he didn't grab her and wrestle her to the ground, so her lecerious boyfriend could escape with his accomplice. No, good ole Rocky stepped in front of a nuclear missile, and kissed it full on the lips. That my friend is the bravest thing I ever heard of. Crazy enough, it worked. The bomb was defused, and the rage in her turned to love towards the crazy bastard that dared to interfere with her path of destruction.

Of course cheaters are hippocrites, speaking from experience. Now the tables turned on poor Rocky. As he and his damsel in not so distress gazed lovingly into each others eyes, the boyfriend decided, that she was his no matter what he did with his other girlfriend. Which meant Rocky was now a target for the dumb bastard that thought Rocky would be an easy victim. Rocky isn't some huge muscled Terminator. He is a wiry Irish man that is rather unassuming, but lethal.

If you ask Rocky, that night he was on fire as a boxer. His footwork was on point, punches were lethal, and he could have beaten Satan himself (think you know who said that by now). If you want the truth, that I got from his buddy that was with him, it was your typical drunken patron tripping around type of fight.

The fight started in Rocky's favor. After he broke the kiss the now ex was coming up behind him. Rocky's new girl must have felt the same as him, and she reached up and pulled him down for another kiss. Just as he bent down, the ex swung at the back of his head. The ex missed, but bumped into Rocky. Rocky thought the ex was tapping him to turn around to punch him, not already trying to hit him in the back of the head. When Rocky turned around, he did so with his guard up. Which blocked the second sloppy punch from the ex, and then Rocky took the offensive. I wish his onslaught was as brilliant as he said. According Rocky's buddy, Rocky swung grazed the ex, as the ex dodged the punch by stepping backwards, and in so doing, tripped over a chair and hit his head on the wall on the way down, knocking him out. The funny thing was as the ex fell, Rocky was jabbing like a mad man at the air until the petite fireball stopped him declaring him the winner and her the prize.

After the soon to be ex was revived, Leona, Rocky's soon to be new girl, officially broke it off with with him. A swift kick to the balls and verbal berating left no doubt to their future. She officially became Rocky's girlfriend. The next day they were engaged, and by the time Rocky had to head back to Afghanistan they were married.

I remember I stopped Rocky. "Come on Rocky. There is no way you went from the bottom of despair to happy in love that fast. All you did was screw for a week and probably knocked her up. Being a good Catholic you married. I salute you for being such a stand up guy."

Rocky stared me down. I obviously touched a soft spot. Then he gave a half smile. "I have a feeling you know of how high love can take you and how far you can fall. If you weren't already laid up Jake, I would make sure you were, for disparaging my wife like that. You must have been burned bad to see everyone so low. No my friend it was nothing like that. Leona and I went back to her place, and I helped her pack her ex's things that night. We slept, but no sex. The next day we were tentative and talked, and kissed. By the end of the day we knew the basics, and it was enough, I proposed. After that thing go serious. She was a receptionist at a law firm, and went to work. When she got home each night, I had dinner waiting and we talked. I mean that soul searching, bare all, leave nothing hidden, talk. After a week there wasn't anything we didn't know. We weren't virgins, but this was beyond sex my friend. This was what God meant for us to find in life, love and happiness. I had it, and was close to losing it because I had to return. All we did was look at each other and knew. The next day she quit her job, we got married, she packed a little, and off we went. The day before we left I got word I was heading to Germany. My unit was pulled back, and waiting for our next assignment. It was a stroke of luck, and helped us get settled, since spouses were allowed on the German base."

I remember I wanted to call bullshit on everything. Nothing like this happens, especially after what he'd been through. Then I remember I was looking at things through my eye, not his. It was my own anger and despair I was feeling that I couldn't feel happy and believe a guy letting me into his life. I felt like shit for that, which was nothing new the past year.

"Robert, I'm sorry. I'm not giving you a fair shake. Forgive this poor bastard. I didn't mean to lash out at you."

He nodded,but didn't continue his story. I didn't blame him. Things were quiet a couple of days, going through our therapy and routines to get better. I had a strange thought, as to why Rocky's wife was not there. If they were so happy and on cloud 9, she should have been there giving him strength to heal. My cynicism started to take over and I began to question his Rocky's story again.

That evening I decided to open communications again. "Rocky, where is your wife?"

He smiled, like he had something on me. "Still doubting my love?"

"She is back in Ireland, pregnant with our first. She cannot fly, doctors say she is high risk, want to keep her close. The good thing is I am do to be shipped out in a week. I'll be home for the birth. And I swear to God Jake, if you ask if I'm sure it's mine I'll beat your ass so bad your ancestors will feel it."

Crap he knew me so well. "Come on Rocky. How long you been married?"

"Two years now. Not a regret for a moment. I will tell you something to make you feel better. No it hasn't been all puppy dogs and roses. We've had our ups and downs. My love and faith in her has never wavered, nor hers in me. You are right Jake. I was in a bad place when I met her. When I stormed those men before I met her, I had not intention of coming back, but I did, probably like what you did and expected. I was even more angry after that, much like you seem now. If I had not met Leona, there is not telling where I would be now, but it wouldn't be here, and it may not even be above ground."

I believed Rocky when he said he was down low and nowhere to go. I had a hard time seeing him finding a way back. I let it go. Guy did seem happy, and it was just sinking me lower. After that I decided to go back to my quiet self loathing. Rocky went back to his prayers and singing. He did try to talk to me more, but all I did was grunt, and be rude back. He was discharged a month before me. The day he left he handed me an envelope and said he'd be seeing me soon.

"Sure Rocky," somehow I couldn't put enough loathing in my tone. He smiled, and said goodbye.

After emptying the bottle of Tequila, I headed to the bathroom. A short time later I was passed out in bed.

The morning came, or more like early afternoon. I grabbed a bottle of something and headed to the bathroom, to get ready for my day. As I was getting out of the bathroom and taking another swig, there was a knock at the door. "Piss off I'm alive."

"Good to know," Rocky said as he opened the door. He always had a key to my room. Afraid I would do something stupid. For the record I never did. His wife convinced him I might. Not sure where that came from. All I can say Leona is a lot smarter than Rocky. She knows there isn't any hope. "Going to do the interviews today?"