Post by Robbie A on Jul 20, 2019 9:36:55 GMT -5
4th July, 09:00, New Orleans, Louisiana.
In his apartment, Leon Chant slowly wakes up, slowly, groggily, he sits up in bed and lets out a slow groan. Another day somewhere that he should call home, but still can’t. It had been about eighteen months since he’d moved here, becoming the house fighter at an illegal fight club ran in the back of a dive bar. Whilst he could admit that he’d gained people he could consider friends, he certainly didn’t find comfort in New Orleans. Leon is a man of simple pleasures, the quiet life, and had been plucked from rural living in Europe to be here.
As he stirs, he realises that something isn’t quite right in the apartment, he can smell something...food. Somebody is making food in his kitchen, and that doesn’t make sense given that he lives alone, and he was sober enough to know that he didn’t take anybody home last night. He growls and gets out of bed, quietly placing his feet on the floor and moving carefully to the door. He takes a deep breath, knowing there could be a fight, before opening the door quickly and stepping out, before him in the open plan apartment, sitting comfortably at the dining table to his right is Rob Arnold. On sight of him, Leon deflates.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Leon sighs.
“Good morning, Leon!” Beams Arnold, who is tucking into some pancakes.
“W-What are you doing here so early?” Bemoans Chant.
“Oh, well I needed to see you, there’s some news and consequential business that I wanted to speak to you about. So we decided to come over and make you some breakfast and go through it with you.” Arnold matter-of-factly replies, before taking a further bite of a pancake.
“We?”
“Morning Leon!” Comes a voice to the left of his gaze, stood there is Tammy St Claire, who smiles at him as she takes a plate of bacon she has just made and adds it to the table. “Come on, sit down!”
Leon’s shoulders drop, nothing ever good comes of a visit from Rob Arnold, he obliges and joins them at the table, Tammy also sits and starts to add food to her plate.
“You let him in? I gave you that key for emergencies because I trusted you Tamara St Claire.”
“I told you he wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“You did, he full-named you and everything.” Rob nods. “Still, Leon, let’s not dwell on the things we’ve done wrong because you'd be here all day telling me all the things I've supposedly done wrong-
"Supposedly?!"
"Yes, supposedly! Anyway, do you know what today is? You can’t say Thursday!”
“You know I hate it when you give me leading questions…”
“It’s the 4th of July, Independence Day here in the USA.” Rob swiftly ignores Chant and continues. “Today though, it’s going to apply to you as well.”
“What...the...fuck...are you talking about?” Leon’s simple reply.
“So Kyle’s decided that we’re shutting the fighting down. Rob’s decided to invest some money in the bar and we’re going to turn the back area into a brewery and source our own beer. Which means you’ll no longer be fighting there.”
Tammy’s words take a moment to sink in to Leon’s head, but as they do, he does something he’s not done in a long time, he smiles.
“So, let me get this straight, I can go home?” Leon questions, slightly sceptical but also making sure he’s not missing anything.
“You can do whatever you like, I’ve-” Arnold’s phone starts to ring and he checks it, before standing up. “Excuse me, need to take this, hello?”
Arnold walks to a far corner of the room, Leon then turns to Tammy.
“So, how are things going with you two?” He pries.
“Slowly.” Is Tammy’s blunt response, eyes rolling. “He is the most intelligent man I know, but socially and emotionally he is such a broken toy, as you know.”
They share a chuckle, then go silent, Leon looks at Arnold on the phone, who is deep in discussion, he takes a deep breath then looks back at St Claire.
“This...this isn’t a joke, or one of his annoying things where he pulls the rug out from under my feet, is it?”
“No, it’s the end of an era with the bar, you can go back home, you can stick around, we’d love you to stick around but I know you probably won’t.”
“I think I just want to go home, for now at least.” Chant smiles again, Tammy nods in understanding and pats her hand on top of his.
“Alright, okay, I’ll let him know, not a problem, speak soon.” Rob returns and sits back at the table, the other two stare at him slightly expectantly. “What?”
“Well, who was it?” Tammy enquires.
“Oh that? That was Aleister Mayfield, the chap who runs MCCW, we were just doing some business.” Rob looks away, not making any eye contact with either of them, both Tammy and Leon know something’s amiss immediately.
“What did he want?” She presses further.
“Hm? Aleister? Oh nothing, nothing really. He was just looking to the coming months and asking me for ideas on talent scouting as he wants to expand his roster, they’re quite an up and coming company so I’m always happy to help.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Help him?”
“Yes.”
“...How?”
Leon is moving his like he was watching a tennis game.
“I’ve pointed him towards a few independent talents I knew of, and I’ve possibly got him a new signing immediately.”
“Possibly?”
“More like certainly.” Arnold looks at Tammy, and slowly side eyes towards Leon, causing Tammy's eyes to widen in disbelief. “Anyway, we should probably go...”
Fast paced conversation isn’t really Leon’s thing, and as he sits there, each words slowly digests, and as Rob starts shuffling Tammy towards the door something clicks in his head.
“Wait a minute...wait a fucking minute...what did you mean when you said you’d let him know...let who know, Rob?”
“Please tell me you didn’t.” Whispers Tammy as she and Rob stand by the door.
“Well, you know, Aleister said he was willing to take a variety of talents, from up and comers to hired guns...and you know, when he said hired gun-”
“You son of a bitch...”
Tammy just gasps in disapproval at Arnold, who is pretty aware of what he’s done, but doesn’t look too sorry about it.
“Now look, Leon, it’s fine, it’s just a temporary thing-”
“You said that about the bar...”
“I’ll find somebody to fill your spot once your initial six months is up.”
“You said that about the bar…!”
“Look, you love getting your hands dirty, and I’m under pressure to play nice with some of the other Network companies since, well, the whole fuck AWF thing.”
Leon looks down at the ground and runs both hands through what hair he does have.
“Get out.”
“Leon-”
“Get...out!”
“I’ll call you tomorrow to sort the deta-”
“Get the fuck out!”
Arnold obliges, grabs Tammy by the hand, who just looks at Chant and mouths the word ‘sorry’ at him and they make a quick exit. Chant starts to shake with rage. He owes Rob Arnold his life, but sometimes it feels like his life isn’t worth living because he has no more freedom now than if Rob had never met him.
“I...just...want...to go…home.” He whispers. He picks up a glass of water and drinks it, examines it, and then throws it at the door. He growls, and sits back in the chair he was sat in before. Here we go again, another assignment, more false promises. It was always the same, and this time, this time he was pissed off.
Welcome to the XHF Network
Your Video is Loading…
Scene up to backstage MCCW and a cameraman is chasing after a suited gentleman who appears to be leaving the arena. He seems to be in a hurry, not wanting to be seen. This doesn’t deter the cameraman who catches him up at quite a pace, and gets around the man to reveal Leon Chant, who looks less than impressed at being faced by a live camera.
“Oh for fucks sake...this is exactly what I was just talking about to Mayfield that I didn’t want. Yes, yes, I’m here, The Hired Gun, Leon Chant is now an MCCW wrestler.”
“What are your ambitions here Leon?” The camera asks, slightly breathless.
“Turn up to work, hurt people, get paid, leave.”
“No titles?”
“I just told you, turn up to work, hurt people, get paid, leave.”
“But, don’t you want-”
“You’re clearly hard of hearing.” He steps towards the camera so his face is almost too close. “Turn up to work-”
“But-” The cameraman tries to interrupt, which seems to be the step too far, and with a snarl Chant grabs the camera and hauls it away, it lands on the floor and loses vision, but the sound can still be heard.”
“Hey!”
“Bill it to Rob Arnold. Now fuck off.”
End Transmission.
In his apartment, Leon Chant slowly wakes up, slowly, groggily, he sits up in bed and lets out a slow groan. Another day somewhere that he should call home, but still can’t. It had been about eighteen months since he’d moved here, becoming the house fighter at an illegal fight club ran in the back of a dive bar. Whilst he could admit that he’d gained people he could consider friends, he certainly didn’t find comfort in New Orleans. Leon is a man of simple pleasures, the quiet life, and had been plucked from rural living in Europe to be here.
As he stirs, he realises that something isn’t quite right in the apartment, he can smell something...food. Somebody is making food in his kitchen, and that doesn’t make sense given that he lives alone, and he was sober enough to know that he didn’t take anybody home last night. He growls and gets out of bed, quietly placing his feet on the floor and moving carefully to the door. He takes a deep breath, knowing there could be a fight, before opening the door quickly and stepping out, before him in the open plan apartment, sitting comfortably at the dining table to his right is Rob Arnold. On sight of him, Leon deflates.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Leon sighs.
“Good morning, Leon!” Beams Arnold, who is tucking into some pancakes.
“W-What are you doing here so early?” Bemoans Chant.
“Oh, well I needed to see you, there’s some news and consequential business that I wanted to speak to you about. So we decided to come over and make you some breakfast and go through it with you.” Arnold matter-of-factly replies, before taking a further bite of a pancake.
“We?”
“Morning Leon!” Comes a voice to the left of his gaze, stood there is Tammy St Claire, who smiles at him as she takes a plate of bacon she has just made and adds it to the table. “Come on, sit down!”
Leon’s shoulders drop, nothing ever good comes of a visit from Rob Arnold, he obliges and joins them at the table, Tammy also sits and starts to add food to her plate.
“You let him in? I gave you that key for emergencies because I trusted you Tamara St Claire.”
“I told you he wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“You did, he full-named you and everything.” Rob nods. “Still, Leon, let’s not dwell on the things we’ve done wrong because you'd be here all day telling me all the things I've supposedly done wrong-
"Supposedly?!"
"Yes, supposedly! Anyway, do you know what today is? You can’t say Thursday!”
“You know I hate it when you give me leading questions…”
“It’s the 4th of July, Independence Day here in the USA.” Rob swiftly ignores Chant and continues. “Today though, it’s going to apply to you as well.”
“What...the...fuck...are you talking about?” Leon’s simple reply.
“So Kyle’s decided that we’re shutting the fighting down. Rob’s decided to invest some money in the bar and we’re going to turn the back area into a brewery and source our own beer. Which means you’ll no longer be fighting there.”
Tammy’s words take a moment to sink in to Leon’s head, but as they do, he does something he’s not done in a long time, he smiles.
“So, let me get this straight, I can go home?” Leon questions, slightly sceptical but also making sure he’s not missing anything.
“You can do whatever you like, I’ve-” Arnold’s phone starts to ring and he checks it, before standing up. “Excuse me, need to take this, hello?”
Arnold walks to a far corner of the room, Leon then turns to Tammy.
“So, how are things going with you two?” He pries.
“Slowly.” Is Tammy’s blunt response, eyes rolling. “He is the most intelligent man I know, but socially and emotionally he is such a broken toy, as you know.”
They share a chuckle, then go silent, Leon looks at Arnold on the phone, who is deep in discussion, he takes a deep breath then looks back at St Claire.
“This...this isn’t a joke, or one of his annoying things where he pulls the rug out from under my feet, is it?”
“No, it’s the end of an era with the bar, you can go back home, you can stick around, we’d love you to stick around but I know you probably won’t.”
“I think I just want to go home, for now at least.” Chant smiles again, Tammy nods in understanding and pats her hand on top of his.
“Alright, okay, I’ll let him know, not a problem, speak soon.” Rob returns and sits back at the table, the other two stare at him slightly expectantly. “What?”
“Well, who was it?” Tammy enquires.
“Oh that? That was Aleister Mayfield, the chap who runs MCCW, we were just doing some business.” Rob looks away, not making any eye contact with either of them, both Tammy and Leon know something’s amiss immediately.
“What did he want?” She presses further.
“Hm? Aleister? Oh nothing, nothing really. He was just looking to the coming months and asking me for ideas on talent scouting as he wants to expand his roster, they’re quite an up and coming company so I’m always happy to help.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Help him?”
“Yes.”
“...How?”
Leon is moving his like he was watching a tennis game.
“I’ve pointed him towards a few independent talents I knew of, and I’ve possibly got him a new signing immediately.”
“Possibly?”
“More like certainly.” Arnold looks at Tammy, and slowly side eyes towards Leon, causing Tammy's eyes to widen in disbelief. “Anyway, we should probably go...”
Fast paced conversation isn’t really Leon’s thing, and as he sits there, each words slowly digests, and as Rob starts shuffling Tammy towards the door something clicks in his head.
“Wait a minute...wait a fucking minute...what did you mean when you said you’d let him know...let who know, Rob?”
“Please tell me you didn’t.” Whispers Tammy as she and Rob stand by the door.
“Well, you know, Aleister said he was willing to take a variety of talents, from up and comers to hired guns...and you know, when he said hired gun-”
“You son of a bitch...”
Tammy just gasps in disapproval at Arnold, who is pretty aware of what he’s done, but doesn’t look too sorry about it.
“Now look, Leon, it’s fine, it’s just a temporary thing-”
“You said that about the bar...”
“I’ll find somebody to fill your spot once your initial six months is up.”
“You said that about the bar…!”
“Look, you love getting your hands dirty, and I’m under pressure to play nice with some of the other Network companies since, well, the whole fuck AWF thing.”
Leon looks down at the ground and runs both hands through what hair he does have.
“Get out.”
“Leon-”
“Get...out!”
“I’ll call you tomorrow to sort the deta-”
“Get the fuck out!”
Arnold obliges, grabs Tammy by the hand, who just looks at Chant and mouths the word ‘sorry’ at him and they make a quick exit. Chant starts to shake with rage. He owes Rob Arnold his life, but sometimes it feels like his life isn’t worth living because he has no more freedom now than if Rob had never met him.
“I...just...want...to go…home.” He whispers. He picks up a glass of water and drinks it, examines it, and then throws it at the door. He growls, and sits back in the chair he was sat in before. Here we go again, another assignment, more false promises. It was always the same, and this time, this time he was pissed off.
Welcome to the XHF Network
Your Video is Loading…
Scene up to backstage MCCW and a cameraman is chasing after a suited gentleman who appears to be leaving the arena. He seems to be in a hurry, not wanting to be seen. This doesn’t deter the cameraman who catches him up at quite a pace, and gets around the man to reveal Leon Chant, who looks less than impressed at being faced by a live camera.
“Oh for fucks sake...this is exactly what I was just talking about to Mayfield that I didn’t want. Yes, yes, I’m here, The Hired Gun, Leon Chant is now an MCCW wrestler.”
“What are your ambitions here Leon?” The camera asks, slightly breathless.
“Turn up to work, hurt people, get paid, leave.”
“No titles?”
“I just told you, turn up to work, hurt people, get paid, leave.”
“But, don’t you want-”
“You’re clearly hard of hearing.” He steps towards the camera so his face is almost too close. “Turn up to work-”
“But-” The cameraman tries to interrupt, which seems to be the step too far, and with a snarl Chant grabs the camera and hauls it away, it lands on the floor and loses vision, but the sound can still be heard.”
“Hey!”
“Bill it to Rob Arnold. Now fuck off.”
End Transmission.