Post by shanemitchell on Jun 25, 2019 6:04:47 GMT -5
"Sorry about the match Dad."
Ellie has just entered the dressing room of her father Shane Mitchell. Moments ago, interference by the number one contender for Shane’s World Championship belt D, had cost him his match. Kintaru had put in a performance to surprise the most avid of his supporters, but it was the despicable actions of D that cost Shane his impressive run of results.
"So you should be, what were you thinking of?!"
Ellie is confused.
"Me? What have I got to do with anything? What D did was cheating, that referee should be struck off!"
"I don't care about Shawna Savante. I don’t care about what D did, Kintaru, or even losing the match come to think of it. Do you know what I am pissed off about though - you going to help Andi! What the hell were you thinking?"
"She's my friend and she was in trouble. What would you have done?"
Shane throws up his arms in exasperation.
"Have you seen what goes on around here? It's dangerous out there! Allen Anderson, RB Cardone, PT Merciless, they've all been killed in that ring. That's not to mention the life threatening injuries that happen week in week out."
"Oh fuck did you see Joe Beb's match? Now that's an injury!" Ellie replies giggling, clearly not taking her fathers warning seriously.
"I'm serious! I don't want you anywhere near that ring again, do you understand me?"
Ellie salutes.
"Yes Fuhrer!"
“YOU’RE INFURIATING!” Yells Shane in frustration.
“Thank you,” comes the composed reply designed to irritate her father even more than he already is. “Anyway, I just came in to commissorate about the loss. I’m gonna go see how Andi’s face is coming along, the medics have been with her since her match.”
Ellie reaches the door about to leave but turns back to her father.
“I hope Andi’s okay but hey, if there’s one silver lining from getting her face bashed up it’s that I’ll be getting the pick of the boys when we hit the town tonight!”
The door slams shut as she finishes her sentence leaving Shane wide eyed.
“BOYS?!”
Shane leaps up and rushes over to the door. He looks both ways down the corridor to find his speedy daughter has fled.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
D's past is complicated. There's no getting away from the fact that D has lived a life of mystery and intrigue. His arrival in RSW was shrouded in mystery as a masked man who had a past that was linked in some way to the Riot Star himself Rob Riot. Even when Vendagor Oscuro revealed his more famous monika it did little to quell the speculation as to why. Why return? Why RSW? Why hide behind the Oscuro mask? To this day it isn’t one hundred percent clear. Was it shame?
As Vendagor Oscuro, he had seemed to be a man of morality. His intentions towards the likes of Jakie Wentzal seemed pure enough even if the results of his endeavors were not entirely successful. D has behaved with respect and integrity. He’s been a caring and attentive boyfriend and fiance to Alyssa even if that has gone off the boil as of late. So considering the behaviour seen by the world at large, D seems to have little to feel shame about - if only they knew.
A child deserted somewhere with god knows who. A history as a hired gun with who knows how many kills under his belt. That is the truth to D. A bad father and a terrible man. He’s right to be ashamed. What Gerry Peterson had found out about D so far is significant but certainly not the whole story. Gerry may be unscrupulous, he may be corrupt and prepared to lie, cheat and steal to attain his goals but that’s only because he takes a pride in his work. When he returns to a paying client such as Shane he wants to give them the full facts, no half measures. Luckily he has contacts in virtually every corner of the United States and beyond.
Gerry is sitting in a typical American diner polishing off a Danish and drinking from his freshly refilled coffee. Sitting opposite is an officer of the law.
"Let's cut to the chase Gerry…" suggests the police officer "...what is it you want?"
"Information."
"Well yeah no shit, I didn't think you'd called me for a social chat. What information?"
"Actually I don't know," explains Gerry. “I just want to know everything you know about an organisation called Justice.”
The officer raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"Wow Ger, that's not your usual philandering husband case you're working on."
"True, so what do you know?"
"Precisely nothing..." admits the policeman "...and if you know what's good for you, you'll back the fuck off from this one."
"Well you obviously know something then?"
"I know they're a complete mystery. I know the rumours and the conjecture but if you're asking me who they actually are then no, I haven't got a clue."
"But they're involved in a number of assassinations?"
"Nothing concrete but yeah plenty, we've just never been able to make anything stick."
"Nothing?"
"We've caught one or two of their operatives but that's all. Experienced career assassins but when the idea of striking a deal for information about Justice comes up they've wet their pants and clammed up. When the kind of guys I’m talking about are scared then there’s something to be scared about. These aren't people you should get involved with Gerry."
Gerry slides a picture across the table.
“Do you know who this is?” Gerry asks.
The officer examines the photograph carefully but shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, he doesn’t recognise the image of D.
“No, is he part of Justice?”
This time it’s Gerry’s turn to shrug his shoulders. The truth is he doesn’t have enough information to know either way as of yet.
“You mention arrests. So you’ve caught some of the Justice assassins?”
“Yeah, like I say only one or two.”
“Names?”
“I’m not sure, I wasn’t directly involved in the case.”
“But you could find out?” Suggests Gerry.
“Maybe.”
Gerry passes an envelope across the table towards the cop. Officer Jim Deakon peaks inside to confirm its contents are a wad of fifty dollar bills.
“Yeah, I can find out some names.”
“I thought you might,” Gerry says with a grin knowing full well Jim Deakon is as bribable as a FIFA official.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
At ten thousand feet above sea level a transatlantic flight should be a time of peace and relaxation. First class offers refreshments, seats that don’t restrict Shane’s longer than average limbs, and a level of quiet that you just don’t get when crammed in with the cattle further back. Shane however has never mastered the art of relaxing. It’s hard to switch off when you’re constantly faced with dangers and challenges. It’s one year since Shane liberated the World Championship belt from it’s worst ever champion Dylan Erickson and but for a very brief time when the belt was relinquished to Rob Riot he has been the champion ever since. That puts a target on his back. The last year has seen Riot, ‘Knucks’ Stephenson, Eddie Havok and D all make moves to dethrone the champion. It hasn’t been as simple as wrestling competition either. Mind games and deviance have been used to destabilise the champ. They’ve come at him with far more than a simple clothesline or a boston crab!
On top of his wrestling challenges was the death of his beloved Tiffany and the subsequent investigation into her death. It’s fair to say that Shane has had a pretty tumultuous year. With Sam Kale dead, Shane’s personal life should be settling into a more routine structure but that isn’t the case. Death of a loved one, work stress, physical violence around every corner and constant danger may sound like a recipe for the ultimate in stressful state but Shane has discovered something perhaps even more anxiety inducing - being a dad!
"So, did you meet any - boys?" Asks a nervous father.
"Oh just a few," Ellie replies with a cheeky smile as she momentarily lifts her eyes from her magazine.
"A few!"
Ellie laughs.
"Calm down Dad, I'm joking."
"Well don't joke. Men are scumbags. Trust me, I know men."
"You know wrestlers. They're not men, they're a bunch of overgrown adolescents with way too much testosterone super charging their libido."
"I'm a wrestler!" Declares Shane defensively.
"Exactly. You're screwing Esmeralda and you don't even like her. That's the sort of shit I'm talking about with you wrestling types."
"Who says I don't like Esmeralda?"
"Do you?" Ellie asks.
Shane grimaces.
"That's beside the point. We're not talking about me, we're talking about the predators quick to take advantage of a naive young girl."
"Naive?"
"Yes, naive. You haven’t even noticed the air steward who hasn’t taken his googly eyes off you since the safety demo.”
“Oh you’re exaggerating,” protests Ellie.
“Am I? Watch this.”
Shane raises his arm in the air to attract the steward. Briskly the steward makes his way over.
“Can I get anything for you Miss?” Asks the steward as he directs his attention to Ellie.
“No thank you,” she replies.
“I’ll have a whisky please,” requests Shane.
“Well if you change your mind Miss, just let me know,” offers the steward towards Ellie before walking away.
“Did you see that? He didn’t even acknowledge me, I’m six and a half feet tall and invisible!
“Feeling neglected Dad? Is this some sort of crisis of confidence because you lost to Kintaru?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t lose to Kintaru, I merely set him up. Do you know what would have happened had I beaten him at Anarchy? He’d have skulked back into midcard obscurity with his tail between his legs and not shown up to an event for six months. Do you know what happens now?”
“Go on,” prompts Ellie.
“I get to enjoy myself at his expense at Night of Champions.”
“Are you forgetting something? You’ve got to beat D at Pandemonium to even get to Night of Champions.”
“Don’t you worry about D, I can handle D.”
“Like you handled him at Masquerade? He damn near killed you!”
“But he didn’t and that was a mistake. D of all people should know about finishing a job, he didn’t put me out of action and that’s going to cost him dearly. That’s if he even makes it to our match. He might be accompanying his ridiculous fiance to the hospital long before we ever step in the ring. What on earth has possessed her tiny little mind to think she can put down her mic and suddenly compete in the ring. I’m loath to say it but Andi will crush her.”
“Damn right she will,” for once Ellie agrees with her father. “Anyway, I’m just nipping to the loo, be back in a minute.”
Shane watches as his daughter makes her way to the facilities. She’s annoying, infuriating in fact, but he can’t deny it. Despite the worry she causes him, the insolence and the backchat, the constant niggles and tormenting, he wouldn’t be without her. She’s only been in his life a few short months but she feels like a part of him. He feels physical pain when he doesn’t know if she’s safe. He feels outright panic at the thought of her being hurt in the most minor of ways. It’s an undeniable truth, he loves her. He loves her every bit as much as if he’d been there at her birth and raised her for all these years. That’s the only regret now, all those years he’s missed. As he watches her return two minutes later it’s with a sense of pride far greater than any championship victory. He isn’t the only person watching her though.
With his head slowly turning, a fat middle aged man in a suit is ogling her. He looks at her face, he looks at her legs and her breasts, and as she passes he turns all the way around to stare unashamedly at her pert twenty year old butt.
Shane can feel his temperature rising, his blood pressure sky-rocketing and sweat forming on his forehead. Why is parenthood so painful?!
X x x x x x x x x x x X
Scottsdale, Arizona
“Hello?” Donnie Deighton says as he answers his phone to an unrecognised number.
Gerry Peterson is on the other end of the phone. Gerry knows that the network of assassins known as Justice seem to be organised through an operation based here in Scottsdale. He doesn’t know for a fact that Donnie works for them but officer Jim Deakon has suggested it to be likely. Donnie has been questioned over multiple ‘hits’ over the last ten years all of which appear to have the hallmarks of a Justice involvement. The police have never been able to pin anything concrete on Donnie so he walks free, presumably still working, still killing.
“We have a job for you,” says Gerry.
“Who is this?” Donnie asks.
“You know who it is.”
“I damn well don’t, who are you?”
Gerry can tell in the assassins voice he knows the kind of job that is being alluded to but he’s being cagey. He’s had enough phone taps and undercover traps placed before him in his time that he isn’t going to speak freely to a complete stranger.
“We have a problem that needs fixing Mr Deighton and you’re just the right man for the job.”
“Look buddy, I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re talking about...” Donnie pauses, “...and unless you get someone I DO know on the phone I won’t be taking any jobs on, capisce?”
“Capisce, really? Look, your usual handler isn’t available right now so you’re taking orders from me, alright.” Gerry sounds suitable assertive as he speaks. Displaying any form of weakness at this point could blow it for him. Cryptically Gerry adds “I believe your work will do ‘justice’ to what we require.”
Hearing the mention of the word Justice does go someway to appeasing Donnie, but not enough to inspire complete trust.
“Just get Athena on the phone will you!” Donnie barks in annoyance.
“Thank you Mr Deighton, that will be all for now.”
The line cuts out leaving Donnie slightly bewildered. Gerry watches Donnie, as he has been doing throughout the entire conversation from the front of his Ford Ranger. He observes Donnie’s face change as he considers the strange phonecall and he watches Donnie with delight when he sees him change direction and head off in the opposite way to where he was previously heading. Gerry makes a note of the name Athena before discreetly following the rumoured assassin as he sees Donnie dial someone on his phone.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
Shane has been seething for the past fifteen minutes. The man who had just checked out Ellie must be three times her age and at least triple her weight too. Fucking pervert. As the fat middle aged ‘gentleman’ gets up from his seat he turns to sneak another peek at Ellie as he pulls up the straining waistband of his bulging trousers. He sets off waddling down the aisle towards the toilets. Shane makes a decision. He doesn’t want to cause a scene and he doesn’t want to upset Ellie so he’ll rise above his usual reactionary demeanor and speak calmly but assertively with the man to keep his hands and thoughts to himself. Shane follows to the toilet and waits patiently outside.
After a couple of minutes it seems evident the man is engaged in a number two - Shane is thankful he doesn’t genuinely need to follow him into the toilet cubicle. A few more minutes pass, the guy must have eaten a few too many eggs Shane thinks to himself - unless. ‘Oh shit’ Shane realises ‘if he’s jacking off in there thinking about my daughter I’m gonna fucking kill him!’ Right then the door opens. Shane takes a sniff and discovers a distinct lack of stinking shit in the air...wanker!
Five minutes later Ellie is beginning to wonder where her father has disappeared to. The air steward who had previously taken a liking to her revisits her once more.
“Erm Miss, we’ve had a bit of an incident with your father...”
X x x x x x x x x x X
Gerry has been trailing Donnie Deighton for at least fifteen minutes now. He’s left the bustling centre of town and now heads towards a large industrial estate full of warehouses, factories and a few office blocks. The streets are quiet now, a car or truck passes once in a while but there are no pedestrians. Donnie continues through the estate, Gerry follows. Finally Donnie seems to reach his destination.
Donnie doesn’t head towards the front entrance, instead he slips around the side of the building. He climbs a small flight of five steps to a door that appears stiff and unused judging by how Donnie has to shoulder barge it open. As soon as Donnie is inside the building Gerry picks up his pace. From a careful distance Gerry now rushes towards the entrance that Donnie has just used. Eager not to lose his man the private investigator rushes inside.
As Gerry steps around the corner he finds himself with the barrel of a gun directed between his eyes. Donnie Deighton smiles in a manner that suggests an element of pride in outwitting whoever this man is who has been tracking him. His smile turns to an aggressive grimace as he swivels the gun around in his hand and slams the butt of the weapon into Gerry Peterson’s skull.
With Gerry unconscious Donnie makes a call.
“I’ve got him.”
Donnie listens to the voice on the other end of the phone line before responding.
“Sure, I’ll get everything ready and call you when he wakes up,” explains Donnie.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
“I can’t believe you did that.” complains Ellie shaking her head.
The handcuffs are removed as aviation police finally agree to release Shane after his arrest on the aircraft.
“He was tossing himself off after depositing you into his wank bank!” Protests Shane.
“And the air steward?”
“What about him?”
“You threatened to castrate him!”
“I saw how he looked at you.”
“Jeez Dad, you can’t castrate every guy who glances in my direction.”
“Says who?”
“Says the guys who had you in handcuffs a moment ago, you’re lucky the wanking guy didn’t want to press charges.”
“Of course he doesn’t want to press charges. His wife probably wouldn’t take too kindly to finding out he wanks in public toilets thinking about twenty year old girls.”
Ellie stops and makes her father face her.
“Do you want to know a secret Dad.” She pauses. “ALL middle age men wank while thinking about twenty year old girls.”
Shane goes red in the face.
“I don’t,” he mumbles while unable to look his daughter in the eye.
Ellie sighs.
“Of course not Dad, of course not.”
X x x x x x x x x x x X
The abandoned warehouse doesn’t look like it’s been utilised by a reputable business in quite some time. There’s no industrial equipment, no furnishings or stock, what there is though is a single chair at it’s centre to which Gerry Peterson is securely tied. In front of Peterson there is a large television screen, switched on but currently displaying a plain black screen. Donnie approaches Gerry and waves smelling salts under his nose that rouse him as quick as a red hot poker up his backside would but with significantly less mess.
Gerry frantically scans the scene looking left and right, trying to impersonate an owl as he turns his head as far around as he can.
“Where am I?”
“You won’t be asking the questions here,” snears Donnie as the television springs to life.
On the television is a woman, on a webcam, seeming to look directly at Gerry. She is sitting in darkness in a manner that disguises her appearance. The outline of her is visible. Long wavy hair and slender shoulders are the extent of what can be gathered about her appearance. When she speaks it is over some sort of voice changing software that makes her sound robotic in a creepy sinister kind of way.
“Why are you asking questions about Justice?” Comes the robotic female voice.
“I can’t say.” Gerry responds.
“Donnie, would you like to explain to the gentleman what happens to someone who refuses to co-operate with Justice.”
Donnie steps forwards and whispers something in the ear of Gerry - Gerry’s face becomes a shade paler.
Gerry gulps as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what you want to know.”
“I know what you are. You’re a private investigator and you don’t want to betray your client right?” Comes the voice from the television. “All I want to know is who you are working for.”
“I didn’t get to where I am today by giving up my clients to the likes of you - Athena.”
“You told him my name Donnie? You imbecile!”
“Sorry, it was a mistake. Who cares, he’s not walking out of here alive anyway.”
There’s a pause at the other end of the webcam as Athena seemingly considers her options.
“Donnie, we don’t kill without good reason.”
“I do,” corrects Donnie.
“Well I don’t. Look Mr private investigator I don’t know who you are and I don’t care but if you want to walk out of here alive I suggest you start talking, and fast.”
“Fuck you. He’s already said he’s gonna kill me anyway, I’m telling you nothing.”
“You have one last chance. Tell me who you’re working for or I call my boss and I promise you that doesn’t end well for you.
“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself with the thick end of a baseball bat you fucking bitch!”
Donnie slams his fist into Gerry’s face, a tooth as well as a splatter of blood fall into Gerry’s lap.
“STOP THAT DONNIE,” orders Athena before talking more calmly to the captive. “Look, there’s no need for anyone to get hurt here today. You’re just doing your job, I know that. All I need to know is why someone wants information about Justice. Tell me and you walk out of here with nothing more than a bruised ego and a missing tooth.”
Gerry looks like he’s considering it for a moment but professional pride gets in the way.
“You’ll hear nothing from me,” Gerry declares defiantly.
Athena sighs.
“So be it.”
The television switches to split screen, Athena on one side and a blank screen on the other. All of a sudden the blank side has text being typed on to it.
‘I am Justice.’
Donnie looks agitated. He’s worked for the group for many years but had never had involvement with the top boss. He’s heard rumours though, terrible terrible rumours.
‘Donnie, please break this man’s finger one at a time’ comes the written request. ‘When you’ve finished that you may remove all his teeth’.
Donnie shrugs as he makes his way behind Gerry. As Donnie takes hold of Gerry’s hand he whispers into the private investigators ear. “I’d talk sooner rather than later if I were you man, after your fingers and teeth it will be your eyes.”
“OK, OK, I’ll tell you what you want to know!” Yells Gerry.
‘Let’s start with who hired you?’
“Shane Mitchell, his name is Shane Mitchell.”
There’s an extended pause while nothing is being typed onto the screen. It’s almost as though the unseen Justice is thinking. Eventually words appear again.
‘Take him to Athena’s house, I wish to speak in person.’
“Whoa hold on right there,” interrupts Athena. “Donnie doesn’t know where I live or what I look and sound like and that’s exactly how I want it to stay. Not to mention the P.I.”
‘Do it.’ types Justice.
“My son is at home, I’m not taking this back there.”
‘You’re forgetting something Athena, they might not know where you live but I do and we all know what happens to people when they don’t do as I tell them.’
X x x x x x x x x x X
The newly built games room at the compound has been a hit. Shane's slightly more mellow state of mind has led to mopolyte drudgery being lowered to just fourteen hours of hard labour per day. Their reduced workload has given them something they haven't enjoyed for quite a while, free time. The games room consists of numerous sofas and comfortable chairs as well as games consoles, a pool table, darts board, table football and a collection of board games that would make the most spoilt child jealous. The mopolytes were somewhat taken aback by Shane's uncharacteristic generosity in provided such a space. Little do they know it's just yet another attempt to make the compound a more desirable homestead for Ellie.
Ellie is in the games room right now in fact having just arrived home from her and her fathers travels. Sitting on the edge of the pool table she has a multitude of mopolytes hovering around her listening to her every word. Even with their lack of brain cells as well as under developed social skills they are managing between them to laugh in all the right places as they smile gormlessly towards her. Seeing this scene without sound would perhaps lead you to believe that Ellie was delivery a speech of such monumental proportions that Jesus and Martin Luther will forever be disregarded as merely average orators, but that would be far from the truth. She's actually just telling them about her latest in a long line of drunken nights out with her new 'bestie' Andi Snow. Although the compound is not a prison, the overwhelmingly disproportionate male dominated environment has the mopolytes feeling as sexually starved as a heterosexual convict. There's barely a mopolyte at the compound who isn't vying for Ellie's attention.
Shane is only walking on by the games room when he notices the commotion. Twenty, perhaps thirty mopolytes congregated around the pool table. Shane stops and stands in the doorway for a moment to check what's going on. Then he sees her.
Ellie flicks back her hair with a toss of her head. Although she wore her hair in a high ponytail to look like Andi for a few days it was only to annoy Dad and it's now back in its familiar silky straight look. She smiles and laughs at something Dagmar Moppick says which just doesn't feel right to Shane, Moppick has never said anything funny in his life. Wait a minute...is she flirting?!
Shane marches into the games room and gives two loud claps of his hands to draw attention.
"Come on, back to work everyone," he yells.
Reluctantly the crowd disperses as horny mopolytes trudge to their menial duties.
"What are you doing?" Asks Shane when he's finally alone with his daughter.
“Erm...talking.”
“Hmmm, as long as that’s all it is.”
Ellie hops down from the pool table and starts racking up the balls into the triangle.
“Come on old fella, you might not be able to win your wrestling match but let’s see if you can at least beat me at pool.”
She breaks, sending the balls scattering here, there and everywhere around the table.
"So what's the plan?" Ellie asks.
"Plan?"
"Yeah, how are you going to beat D? Last time out was a struggle."
Shane shrugs. She's right, D is a challenge every bit as great as anything he's ever encountered. Morcant Davis, PT Merciless, Garmr, Rob Riot - D is just as dangerous and talented as any of the RSW legends.
"He's tricky, he's elusive. He's not a man to go against all guns blazing. Facing him at Masquerade has taught me a lot about the enigma."
Ellie has potted a number of balls as she works her way around the table. She bends over to take another shot right in front of Shane who has to avert his eyes as her denim shorts ride up to reveal a little lower butt cheek. She misses and Shane takes over.
"Against D I need to be careful," says Shane as he knocks a ball slowly and deliberately towards the corner pocket.
"I need to strategise and plan my way to victory," Shane says as he rolls another ball into the pocket while leaving himself in perfect position for his next shot.
Two more balls go down as Ellie admires her Dad's technique around the table.
"Hey, you're good at this."
"The same principles apply here as to why I'll beat D at Pandemonium - forward planning. Just like I've planned out every shot until I sink the black I have planned for months how to defeat D."
Shane flamboyantly slams the final black ball into the corner pocket before flashing a cocky smile at his daughter.
"Pandemonium is an event that sees unusual stipulations. Unexpected stipulations that can change at a moments notice. How does one prepare for a match like that?"
"I don't know," admits Ellie.
"You forge relations with the person who makes those stipulations of course."
"Esmeralda?"
"Exactly. You don't think she'll pick match types that suit me over D? Of course she will."
"That's cheating!" Protests Ellie.
Shane grins mischievously.
"It's only cheating if you get caught."
"I guess," concedes Ellie before deciding to call it a night. It's getting late and she's tired after their long journey.
As she leaves she bumps into Total Mopper as he sweeps the corridor outside the games room. His broom falls to the ground, the clatter attracting Shane's attention. Mopper bends to pick it up but his reactions are slower than Ellie's who is already picking the broomstick up. Mopper inadvertently finds his face inches from Ellie's taut buttocks. He stops and stares.
Shane's overprotective anger rises once more. As Ellie hands Mopper back his broom and heads to bed Total Mopper feels the flat of Shane's hand slapping the back of his head. Mopper scurried away as quick as his cumbersome legs can carry him.
"MOPSOOOOON!!!!!" Yells Shane.
Bash Mopson appears with alarming speed.
"Mopson, desperate times call for desperate measures - fetch the chastity belt!"
X x x x x x x x x x X
The leaves rustle in the evening breeze. Crickets and other insects can be heard getting on with their evening escapades in this suburban garden. The moon above is full making the night less bleak than it would otherwise have been. The silver birch tree that stands centrally in the garden would usually be home to numerous birds but not tonight. This evening the tree has been commandeered by something else. A man. The man who hopes to be the next Riot Star Wrestling champion - D.
It isn't the first time D has set up camp in this very tree. Perched comfortably, the agile former assassin has positioned himself in exactly the same place as all the other times. He is in fact perfectly level with the bedroom window that his eyes are transfixed upon. This isn't somewhere that could be considered a regular hangout for the man formerly known as Vendagor Oscuro. He's been here perhaps four or five times. He knows he shouldn't. He knows it's wrong. Sometimes this is something he just needs to do.
The young boy over which D watches is fast asleep. Laying on his side, eyes closed, chest moving in and out hypnotically. D has a thoughtful, wistful look in his eyes as he gazes upon the boy, the boy named Damien.
Many years have passed since the birth of D's young son but D has never been a father to him. The loss of his wife during childbirth had left D in a bad place, certainly not a place suited to raising a child. It was with great difficulty that D handed over the child to his best friend Michael and his wife Clara. Baby Damien was to be raised as their own. He would never know of his real mother's sacrifice nor his father's desertion.
D will never meet Damien. Even since the tragic death of his adoptive father it remains imperative that the youngster stays oblivious to his true biological roots. D will never meet his son but as a master of stealth it doesn't mean he can't watch him grow.
When D is at his most melancholy that's when he comes. When things are at their worst and his mental health at its lowest ebb that's when D needs this. That's when he climbs this tree.
The bedroom door opens allowing a little light from the hallway to spill into the room. Clara, the boys sole guardian, enters the boy's room to check on him. Michael had got lucky with Clara, she was as kind as she was beautiful with her elegant features and long wavy hair. That and she was a fantastic mother. In that regard D was every bit as fortunate as Michael in that he'd found her.
She kisses the boy gently on his cheek before leaving and closing the door shut behind her. D smiles to himself, Damien is in safe hands.
X x x x x x x x X
Shane is sitting in his private chambers enjoying a fine malt. In his huge leather Chesterfield he allows his head to flop back and closes his eyes with a big sigh, wallowing in the comfort. His relaxation is disturbed as the door burst open and Ellie marches up to him. With a metallic clank she drops something on his coffee table.
“What’s this?” She asks sternly.
“A present,” replies Shane.
“Mopson said you sent him with it. Did you seriously just give me a chastity belt to wear?”
"A what?" Shane asks, playing dumb.
"You know full well what I'm talking about," she accuses as she points at the offending article on his coffee table.
"Oh, your new underwear, do you like it?"
"Underwear? It's metal, solid steel!"
Shane looks at the chastity device quizzically as though completely oblivious to its construction. Colourful stickers of unicorns and care bears have been used to cover the garment, trying to disguise it’s true purpose.
"But...the unicorns, do you like the unicorns?"
"Oh yes, I love the unicorns..." says Ellie sarcastically, "...almost as much as I love the padlock at the front!”
"That's not a padlock, it's just - decoration".
Ellie holds the key aloft.
"Well...er...the accessories are just additional safety features. It’s practical, it’s wipe clean, so convenient”
“Perhaps I might change my mind about it if I see it being worn,” suggests Ellie.
“That’s more like it, yes, you should try it on!”
Ellie shakes her head and picks up the belt.
“Here,” she says as she offers her father the belt.
Shane looks bemused for a moment or two before it dawns on him her intentions.
“Me? No, no, that’s absurd. It’s for you.”
“Just try it on,” suggests Ellie “I want to see how it looks when being worn.
Reluctantly Shane steps into the metallic contraption and pulls it up his long legs. Once positioned correctly he clicks the latch and steps back to allow Ellie to gauge the appearance of her new underwear. Ellie steps forward and deftly shuts the front padlock much to the chagrin of her father. She holds up the key as she backs away and heads towards the door.
“Ellie? What are you doing?”
“We’ll see how you like being over protected shall we?”
As she opens the door to leave Shane begins to look more and more concerned.
“Ellie? Ellie? Come back Ellie…”
“You can have this back in the morning,” she explains as she gestures towards the key in her hand and closes the door behind her as she leaves.
“ELLIE?!”
Shane raps his knuckles on the front of the belt before pulling and testing the lock.
“Ellie?” he mumbles now talking to himself, “I need the toilet!”
X x x x x x x x x X
Headlights casting their glow onto the front of the house announce the arrival of a car as it pulls up in front of Clara's residence. D's attention is momentarily taken away from his son as he looks towards the unexpected arrival.
A man gets out and walks towards the door. Has Clara moved on from Michael? 'Good for her' thinks D, Michael would want her to be happy. The man doesn't look like her type if Michael was any indication of the kind of man she was attracted to. This man looks a lot more rough and ready than Michael ever was, in fact he has the hardened look of someone who has seen and done a lot of things he shouldn't have. Clara opens the door before he has the chance to knock.
They exchange a few words that are out of earshot from where D is sitting before the man returns to his car. He reaches into the back seat pulling something heavy towards him. It hits the floor with a thud. He hoists it upright before placing what is now obviously a man on his feet. The man is tied with his hands behind his back and his feet tethered so they can only separate perhaps an inch or two. A shove in the back prompts the captive to shuffle in ungainly manner towards the front door.
This isn't anything like what D would expect from Clara. Clara, the perfect wife and mother, kind to strangers and generous to a fault. What on earth has Clara gotten herself mixed up in? This seems to be more D's world than Clara's, the precise world D had wanted to avoid exposing his son to. With Damien in the house too, what on earth is Clara thinking?
D leaps down from his perch and lands almost silently on the grass below. With practised precision D sneaks silently towards the house and positions himself beneath the window that has just seen a lamp turned on.
The captive is quickly strapped to a chair before the man takes a step back to admire his handiwork.
"Mmmph," is the best the tied up individual can manage with his gag in place.
"There'll be plenty of time to talk when the boss arrives," warns the man.
He takes a seat and removes his gun from its holder. He begins playing with it, turning it around in his hands and examining the weapon before slowly and deliberately pointing it at the immobilised prisoner.
"Put that away!" Scolds Clara. "My son is upstairs, it's bad enough you're here at all without messing around with that thing."
D can't believe his eyes. This isn't Clara. Not the Clara he knows anyway. His incredulous surprise is multiplied tenfold at Donnie's next words.
"This thing is what pays the bills Athena."
Smashing glass makes everyone leap in surprise as the window is shattered to a million pieces as D leaps into the room, rolling out of his dive with little more than a few scratches.
"What the hell?!" Cries Clara, known as Athena to those under her control. "It's you!"
D stares at Clara, unable to believe what he has seen and heard.
"Athena?" Questions D.
Clara shakes her head, dismayed at what has transpired.
"Yes... I'm Athena." Clara admits.
D's head is in a spin as he contemplates the revelation. He's known Clara for years. He entrusted her with his only child. Likewise he has known Athena for a long time in a completely different capacity, never once suspecting they were one in the same. Athena had been D's handler. He never met her, never saw her, but when a hit needed to be carried out she was his liaison. He knew her as Athena, never knowing her true identity and never wanting to. Now he knows. His handler during his years as an assassin is the same women that is mother to his son.
The door opens and the small innocent face of a young boy pokes it's way around the corner.
"Mummy, I heard a noise."
Clara rushes over to Damien ensuring he doesn't see anything that's going on in the room.
"Its ok sweetie. Go back to bed, I just have a few friends visiting. There's nothing to worry about."
“Is that man ok mummy?” Damien points at Gerry Peterson who is gagged and tied to his chair.
“Yes darling, we’re just playing a little game.”
She ushers him away and back up stairs. D waits until he's gone before he speaks again.
"Jesus fucking christ Clara, what are you thinking of? Damien is upstairs!"
"I know, I know, I promise this is a first. I've never brought my work home."
"So why now, why him?" D asks as he points towards Gerry Peterson who remains tied to a chair.
“I don’t know, I really don’t! I’ve never been asked to bring anyone here before, I don’t know why this guy is so important that Justice themselves want to speak to him in person.”
“Justice, coming here?”
Clara nods.
“Nobody meets Justice, they’re too careful for that,” states D.
“I know, I’m as confused as you are.”
“I highly doubt that.”
D moves over to where Gerry Peterson is sitting and rips the gag from his mouth.
“Come on, speak up. Why is Justice taking such a special interest in you?”
Gerry looks at D clearly frightened of both him and the gun that Donnie still has poised to use at any moment should he be given an excuse.
“How should I know, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here!”
Donnie slams his fist into Gerry’s face.
“Stop that!” Yells Clara.
“Why, he’s gonna be at the bottom of Salt River by the end of the night anyway.”
“I told you already Donnie, no-one dies unless it’s warranted. We’re Justice, we kill murderers, paedophiles, the scum of the earth.”
A voice from the doorway surprises everyone at it’s unnoticed arrival.
“It’s so adorable that you still believe that Athena.”
D freezes at the voice coming from behind him. The voice of Justice is a voice he recognises all too well.
“And you D, always believing there was a righteousness to your murderous ways, it really is ever so endearing...Daaahling.”
D spins around to see Esmeralda Von Krauss smiling as though arriving at a family reunion. He feels faint. D had spent a number of years as a hired gun, killed so many people he’d lost count. Justifying his actions to himself he had always taken solace in the fact that his victims were the scum of the earth and were ill deserving of life. He had trusted the organisation he had known as Justice not to break that bond, not to kill the undeserving. D is speechless.
“Yes Dahling, you’ve worked for me far longer than the last couple of years in RSW, you’ve been my puppet for years.”
D’s legs feel weak and he holds onto the nearby table.
“Did you really think I took such an interest in you for your wrestling prowess. From the moment you decided to join RSW I already knew you were special. I knew I wanted you to be mine!”
“Be yours?” D manages to question. “You...you {No Means No} me, you {No Means No} Alyssa.”
“You resisted me, I don’t like to be told no.”
Donnie interrupts, pointing at Gerry Peterson. “Look, are we gonna kill this guy or not?”
He doesn’t get his response. Esmeralda smiles what appears to be an expression of sincerity as she puts her arm around the shoulder of another of her employees, only to then twist his neck - broken. Donnie slumps to the ground dead.
“Fuck! This is my home, my kid is upstairs!” Protests Clara aka Athena.
“YOUR child?” Questions Esmeralda.
“You know?” Asks Clara.
“Of course I know, I know everything about both of you.”
“You leave him out of this,” warns D.
Esmeralda smiles sweetly.
“Of course Dahling, what do you take me for? I would never hurt the child of a man I care for...” Esmeralda approaches D and runs her soft fingers down the side of his face. “...and I do care. Of course my feelings must be reciprocated for my generosity to remain intact.”
D recoils in horror. Is she threatening Damien? Is she genuinely using his son to make D hers? Does D have to belong to this woman to protect his son?
Esmeralda sees D glance at the photograph of Damien that sits on the mantelpiece. She walks over and picks up the picture in her hands, turning it over, examining it.
“You know, it might be better for all concerned if you are on my side. It would be very much in your interest to be with me rather than against me.”
Esmeralda paces over to the bound private investigator and places her hand on the shoulder of Gerry Peterson.
“You know this man is working for Shane Mitchell don’t you?”
“What?” Questions D.
“Hilarious isn’t it. Shane actually brought us together Dahling.”
“Who said anything about us being together.”
Esmeralda smiles, enjoying D’s strength of resistance.
“I did. We were meant for one another dahling. Justice, Riot Star Wrestling, they are just the tip of the iceberg of my empire. Armand has his little interests what with the Kharnival amongst others, I have mine. Justice is just one of my many personal indulgences. You can be a part of it dahling, starting this week when you destroy Shane Mitchell and become MY champion.”
“Wait a minute, aren’t you screwing Mitchell?”
“Are you jealous?” Esmeralda taunts. “He’s just a pawn in my game. YOU are my true champion. YOU are the one that should be standing by my side.”
D pauses for thought. He stares into the distance lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He then turns to Clara. He talks to her intimately, face to face inches apart.
“Do you love Damien?”
“Of course I do!” Replies Clara.
“You’ll always put him first and protect him at all costs?”
“Yes, always!”
“Then quit. Leave Justice and all this behind. Concentrate on being a mum, I’ll take care of you both financially. You don’t need to be ‘Athena’ anymore.”
Clara nods her head in agreement. She’d be delighted to see the back of this life.
D looks over at Esmeralda “You heard that?”
“I heard,” she confirms.
“It’s me you want, you’ll leave Clara and Damien alone?”
“Of course dahling, I’m not a monster - not all the time anyway.”
D approaches Esmeralda with a look of shame and embarrassment in his eyes. Esmeralda reaches out and strokes the enigma’s face.
“There’s one more thing dahling. Before you officially become my champion at Pandemonium you must cement our bond one more time…” she gestures towards Gerry “...kill him.”
D looks down towards the helpless man. He takes a few steps and positions himself behind the private investigator before looking up into the evil eyes of Esmeralda Von Krauss. He places his hands on either side of the man’s neck. He appears to be conflicted and unsure as he looks at Esmeralda, at Clara and at the pitiful creature before him. He thinks about Alyssa, his former best friend Michael and even Shane Mitchell. It’s then that he looks at the picture of Damien on the mantelpiece and it’s that which helps him make up his mind...
X x x x x x x x x x X
Shane Mitchell knows nothing of tonights events in Arizona. It’s late and the only light comes from a single flickering candle. Shane sits in his leather Chesterfield, not half as comfortably as he did earlier in the evening. The candle light dances in its reflection off the chastity belt that Shane reluctantly wears until morning. He picks up his drink but remembering his full bladder quickly puts his glass back down again. He folds his arms in disgruntled annoyance and despair as he realises what he’s about to do. He’s got no choice. Closing his eyes Shane breathes a huge sigh of relief as a warm moisture spreads from his nether regions and dribbles out from the confines of the chastity belt. His face turns into a grimace of mild disgust before shaking his head in disbelief. One thought dominates his mind.
“Is fatherhood really meant to be this undignified!”
Ellie has just entered the dressing room of her father Shane Mitchell. Moments ago, interference by the number one contender for Shane’s World Championship belt D, had cost him his match. Kintaru had put in a performance to surprise the most avid of his supporters, but it was the despicable actions of D that cost Shane his impressive run of results.
"So you should be, what were you thinking of?!"
Ellie is confused.
"Me? What have I got to do with anything? What D did was cheating, that referee should be struck off!"
"I don't care about Shawna Savante. I don’t care about what D did, Kintaru, or even losing the match come to think of it. Do you know what I am pissed off about though - you going to help Andi! What the hell were you thinking?"
"She's my friend and she was in trouble. What would you have done?"
Shane throws up his arms in exasperation.
"Have you seen what goes on around here? It's dangerous out there! Allen Anderson, RB Cardone, PT Merciless, they've all been killed in that ring. That's not to mention the life threatening injuries that happen week in week out."
"Oh fuck did you see Joe Beb's match? Now that's an injury!" Ellie replies giggling, clearly not taking her fathers warning seriously.
"I'm serious! I don't want you anywhere near that ring again, do you understand me?"
Ellie salutes.
"Yes Fuhrer!"
“YOU’RE INFURIATING!” Yells Shane in frustration.
“Thank you,” comes the composed reply designed to irritate her father even more than he already is. “Anyway, I just came in to commissorate about the loss. I’m gonna go see how Andi’s face is coming along, the medics have been with her since her match.”
Ellie reaches the door about to leave but turns back to her father.
“I hope Andi’s okay but hey, if there’s one silver lining from getting her face bashed up it’s that I’ll be getting the pick of the boys when we hit the town tonight!”
The door slams shut as she finishes her sentence leaving Shane wide eyed.
“BOYS?!”
Shane leaps up and rushes over to the door. He looks both ways down the corridor to find his speedy daughter has fled.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
D's past is complicated. There's no getting away from the fact that D has lived a life of mystery and intrigue. His arrival in RSW was shrouded in mystery as a masked man who had a past that was linked in some way to the Riot Star himself Rob Riot. Even when Vendagor Oscuro revealed his more famous monika it did little to quell the speculation as to why. Why return? Why RSW? Why hide behind the Oscuro mask? To this day it isn’t one hundred percent clear. Was it shame?
As Vendagor Oscuro, he had seemed to be a man of morality. His intentions towards the likes of Jakie Wentzal seemed pure enough even if the results of his endeavors were not entirely successful. D has behaved with respect and integrity. He’s been a caring and attentive boyfriend and fiance to Alyssa even if that has gone off the boil as of late. So considering the behaviour seen by the world at large, D seems to have little to feel shame about - if only they knew.
A child deserted somewhere with god knows who. A history as a hired gun with who knows how many kills under his belt. That is the truth to D. A bad father and a terrible man. He’s right to be ashamed. What Gerry Peterson had found out about D so far is significant but certainly not the whole story. Gerry may be unscrupulous, he may be corrupt and prepared to lie, cheat and steal to attain his goals but that’s only because he takes a pride in his work. When he returns to a paying client such as Shane he wants to give them the full facts, no half measures. Luckily he has contacts in virtually every corner of the United States and beyond.
Gerry is sitting in a typical American diner polishing off a Danish and drinking from his freshly refilled coffee. Sitting opposite is an officer of the law.
"Let's cut to the chase Gerry…" suggests the police officer "...what is it you want?"
"Information."
"Well yeah no shit, I didn't think you'd called me for a social chat. What information?"
"Actually I don't know," explains Gerry. “I just want to know everything you know about an organisation called Justice.”
The officer raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"Wow Ger, that's not your usual philandering husband case you're working on."
"True, so what do you know?"
"Precisely nothing..." admits the policeman "...and if you know what's good for you, you'll back the fuck off from this one."
"Well you obviously know something then?"
"I know they're a complete mystery. I know the rumours and the conjecture but if you're asking me who they actually are then no, I haven't got a clue."
"But they're involved in a number of assassinations?"
"Nothing concrete but yeah plenty, we've just never been able to make anything stick."
"Nothing?"
"We've caught one or two of their operatives but that's all. Experienced career assassins but when the idea of striking a deal for information about Justice comes up they've wet their pants and clammed up. When the kind of guys I’m talking about are scared then there’s something to be scared about. These aren't people you should get involved with Gerry."
Gerry slides a picture across the table.
“Do you know who this is?” Gerry asks.
The officer examines the photograph carefully but shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, he doesn’t recognise the image of D.
“No, is he part of Justice?”
This time it’s Gerry’s turn to shrug his shoulders. The truth is he doesn’t have enough information to know either way as of yet.
“You mention arrests. So you’ve caught some of the Justice assassins?”
“Yeah, like I say only one or two.”
“Names?”
“I’m not sure, I wasn’t directly involved in the case.”
“But you could find out?” Suggests Gerry.
“Maybe.”
Gerry passes an envelope across the table towards the cop. Officer Jim Deakon peaks inside to confirm its contents are a wad of fifty dollar bills.
“Yeah, I can find out some names.”
“I thought you might,” Gerry says with a grin knowing full well Jim Deakon is as bribable as a FIFA official.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
At ten thousand feet above sea level a transatlantic flight should be a time of peace and relaxation. First class offers refreshments, seats that don’t restrict Shane’s longer than average limbs, and a level of quiet that you just don’t get when crammed in with the cattle further back. Shane however has never mastered the art of relaxing. It’s hard to switch off when you’re constantly faced with dangers and challenges. It’s one year since Shane liberated the World Championship belt from it’s worst ever champion Dylan Erickson and but for a very brief time when the belt was relinquished to Rob Riot he has been the champion ever since. That puts a target on his back. The last year has seen Riot, ‘Knucks’ Stephenson, Eddie Havok and D all make moves to dethrone the champion. It hasn’t been as simple as wrestling competition either. Mind games and deviance have been used to destabilise the champ. They’ve come at him with far more than a simple clothesline or a boston crab!
On top of his wrestling challenges was the death of his beloved Tiffany and the subsequent investigation into her death. It’s fair to say that Shane has had a pretty tumultuous year. With Sam Kale dead, Shane’s personal life should be settling into a more routine structure but that isn’t the case. Death of a loved one, work stress, physical violence around every corner and constant danger may sound like a recipe for the ultimate in stressful state but Shane has discovered something perhaps even more anxiety inducing - being a dad!
"So, did you meet any - boys?" Asks a nervous father.
"Oh just a few," Ellie replies with a cheeky smile as she momentarily lifts her eyes from her magazine.
"A few!"
Ellie laughs.
"Calm down Dad, I'm joking."
"Well don't joke. Men are scumbags. Trust me, I know men."
"You know wrestlers. They're not men, they're a bunch of overgrown adolescents with way too much testosterone super charging their libido."
"I'm a wrestler!" Declares Shane defensively.
"Exactly. You're screwing Esmeralda and you don't even like her. That's the sort of shit I'm talking about with you wrestling types."
"Who says I don't like Esmeralda?"
"Do you?" Ellie asks.
Shane grimaces.
"That's beside the point. We're not talking about me, we're talking about the predators quick to take advantage of a naive young girl."
"Naive?"
"Yes, naive. You haven’t even noticed the air steward who hasn’t taken his googly eyes off you since the safety demo.”
“Oh you’re exaggerating,” protests Ellie.
“Am I? Watch this.”
Shane raises his arm in the air to attract the steward. Briskly the steward makes his way over.
“Can I get anything for you Miss?” Asks the steward as he directs his attention to Ellie.
“No thank you,” she replies.
“I’ll have a whisky please,” requests Shane.
“Well if you change your mind Miss, just let me know,” offers the steward towards Ellie before walking away.
“Did you see that? He didn’t even acknowledge me, I’m six and a half feet tall and invisible!
“Feeling neglected Dad? Is this some sort of crisis of confidence because you lost to Kintaru?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t lose to Kintaru, I merely set him up. Do you know what would have happened had I beaten him at Anarchy? He’d have skulked back into midcard obscurity with his tail between his legs and not shown up to an event for six months. Do you know what happens now?”
“Go on,” prompts Ellie.
“I get to enjoy myself at his expense at Night of Champions.”
“Are you forgetting something? You’ve got to beat D at Pandemonium to even get to Night of Champions.”
“Don’t you worry about D, I can handle D.”
“Like you handled him at Masquerade? He damn near killed you!”
“But he didn’t and that was a mistake. D of all people should know about finishing a job, he didn’t put me out of action and that’s going to cost him dearly. That’s if he even makes it to our match. He might be accompanying his ridiculous fiance to the hospital long before we ever step in the ring. What on earth has possessed her tiny little mind to think she can put down her mic and suddenly compete in the ring. I’m loath to say it but Andi will crush her.”
“Damn right she will,” for once Ellie agrees with her father. “Anyway, I’m just nipping to the loo, be back in a minute.”
Shane watches as his daughter makes her way to the facilities. She’s annoying, infuriating in fact, but he can’t deny it. Despite the worry she causes him, the insolence and the backchat, the constant niggles and tormenting, he wouldn’t be without her. She’s only been in his life a few short months but she feels like a part of him. He feels physical pain when he doesn’t know if she’s safe. He feels outright panic at the thought of her being hurt in the most minor of ways. It’s an undeniable truth, he loves her. He loves her every bit as much as if he’d been there at her birth and raised her for all these years. That’s the only regret now, all those years he’s missed. As he watches her return two minutes later it’s with a sense of pride far greater than any championship victory. He isn’t the only person watching her though.
With his head slowly turning, a fat middle aged man in a suit is ogling her. He looks at her face, he looks at her legs and her breasts, and as she passes he turns all the way around to stare unashamedly at her pert twenty year old butt.
Shane can feel his temperature rising, his blood pressure sky-rocketing and sweat forming on his forehead. Why is parenthood so painful?!
X x x x x x x x x x x X
Scottsdale, Arizona
“Hello?” Donnie Deighton says as he answers his phone to an unrecognised number.
Gerry Peterson is on the other end of the phone. Gerry knows that the network of assassins known as Justice seem to be organised through an operation based here in Scottsdale. He doesn’t know for a fact that Donnie works for them but officer Jim Deakon has suggested it to be likely. Donnie has been questioned over multiple ‘hits’ over the last ten years all of which appear to have the hallmarks of a Justice involvement. The police have never been able to pin anything concrete on Donnie so he walks free, presumably still working, still killing.
“We have a job for you,” says Gerry.
“Who is this?” Donnie asks.
“You know who it is.”
“I damn well don’t, who are you?”
Gerry can tell in the assassins voice he knows the kind of job that is being alluded to but he’s being cagey. He’s had enough phone taps and undercover traps placed before him in his time that he isn’t going to speak freely to a complete stranger.
“We have a problem that needs fixing Mr Deighton and you’re just the right man for the job.”
“Look buddy, I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re talking about...” Donnie pauses, “...and unless you get someone I DO know on the phone I won’t be taking any jobs on, capisce?”
“Capisce, really? Look, your usual handler isn’t available right now so you’re taking orders from me, alright.” Gerry sounds suitable assertive as he speaks. Displaying any form of weakness at this point could blow it for him. Cryptically Gerry adds “I believe your work will do ‘justice’ to what we require.”
Hearing the mention of the word Justice does go someway to appeasing Donnie, but not enough to inspire complete trust.
“Just get Athena on the phone will you!” Donnie barks in annoyance.
“Thank you Mr Deighton, that will be all for now.”
The line cuts out leaving Donnie slightly bewildered. Gerry watches Donnie, as he has been doing throughout the entire conversation from the front of his Ford Ranger. He observes Donnie’s face change as he considers the strange phonecall and he watches Donnie with delight when he sees him change direction and head off in the opposite way to where he was previously heading. Gerry makes a note of the name Athena before discreetly following the rumoured assassin as he sees Donnie dial someone on his phone.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
Shane has been seething for the past fifteen minutes. The man who had just checked out Ellie must be three times her age and at least triple her weight too. Fucking pervert. As the fat middle aged ‘gentleman’ gets up from his seat he turns to sneak another peek at Ellie as he pulls up the straining waistband of his bulging trousers. He sets off waddling down the aisle towards the toilets. Shane makes a decision. He doesn’t want to cause a scene and he doesn’t want to upset Ellie so he’ll rise above his usual reactionary demeanor and speak calmly but assertively with the man to keep his hands and thoughts to himself. Shane follows to the toilet and waits patiently outside.
After a couple of minutes it seems evident the man is engaged in a number two - Shane is thankful he doesn’t genuinely need to follow him into the toilet cubicle. A few more minutes pass, the guy must have eaten a few too many eggs Shane thinks to himself - unless. ‘Oh shit’ Shane realises ‘if he’s jacking off in there thinking about my daughter I’m gonna fucking kill him!’ Right then the door opens. Shane takes a sniff and discovers a distinct lack of stinking shit in the air...wanker!
Five minutes later Ellie is beginning to wonder where her father has disappeared to. The air steward who had previously taken a liking to her revisits her once more.
“Erm Miss, we’ve had a bit of an incident with your father...”
X x x x x x x x x x X
Gerry has been trailing Donnie Deighton for at least fifteen minutes now. He’s left the bustling centre of town and now heads towards a large industrial estate full of warehouses, factories and a few office blocks. The streets are quiet now, a car or truck passes once in a while but there are no pedestrians. Donnie continues through the estate, Gerry follows. Finally Donnie seems to reach his destination.
Donnie doesn’t head towards the front entrance, instead he slips around the side of the building. He climbs a small flight of five steps to a door that appears stiff and unused judging by how Donnie has to shoulder barge it open. As soon as Donnie is inside the building Gerry picks up his pace. From a careful distance Gerry now rushes towards the entrance that Donnie has just used. Eager not to lose his man the private investigator rushes inside.
As Gerry steps around the corner he finds himself with the barrel of a gun directed between his eyes. Donnie Deighton smiles in a manner that suggests an element of pride in outwitting whoever this man is who has been tracking him. His smile turns to an aggressive grimace as he swivels the gun around in his hand and slams the butt of the weapon into Gerry Peterson’s skull.
With Gerry unconscious Donnie makes a call.
“I’ve got him.”
Donnie listens to the voice on the other end of the phone line before responding.
“Sure, I’ll get everything ready and call you when he wakes up,” explains Donnie.
X x x x x x x x x x x x X
“I can’t believe you did that.” complains Ellie shaking her head.
The handcuffs are removed as aviation police finally agree to release Shane after his arrest on the aircraft.
“He was tossing himself off after depositing you into his wank bank!” Protests Shane.
“And the air steward?”
“What about him?”
“You threatened to castrate him!”
“I saw how he looked at you.”
“Jeez Dad, you can’t castrate every guy who glances in my direction.”
“Says who?”
“Says the guys who had you in handcuffs a moment ago, you’re lucky the wanking guy didn’t want to press charges.”
“Of course he doesn’t want to press charges. His wife probably wouldn’t take too kindly to finding out he wanks in public toilets thinking about twenty year old girls.”
Ellie stops and makes her father face her.
“Do you want to know a secret Dad.” She pauses. “ALL middle age men wank while thinking about twenty year old girls.”
Shane goes red in the face.
“I don’t,” he mumbles while unable to look his daughter in the eye.
Ellie sighs.
“Of course not Dad, of course not.”
X x x x x x x x x x x X
The abandoned warehouse doesn’t look like it’s been utilised by a reputable business in quite some time. There’s no industrial equipment, no furnishings or stock, what there is though is a single chair at it’s centre to which Gerry Peterson is securely tied. In front of Peterson there is a large television screen, switched on but currently displaying a plain black screen. Donnie approaches Gerry and waves smelling salts under his nose that rouse him as quick as a red hot poker up his backside would but with significantly less mess.
Gerry frantically scans the scene looking left and right, trying to impersonate an owl as he turns his head as far around as he can.
“Where am I?”
“You won’t be asking the questions here,” snears Donnie as the television springs to life.
On the television is a woman, on a webcam, seeming to look directly at Gerry. She is sitting in darkness in a manner that disguises her appearance. The outline of her is visible. Long wavy hair and slender shoulders are the extent of what can be gathered about her appearance. When she speaks it is over some sort of voice changing software that makes her sound robotic in a creepy sinister kind of way.
“Why are you asking questions about Justice?” Comes the robotic female voice.
“I can’t say.” Gerry responds.
“Donnie, would you like to explain to the gentleman what happens to someone who refuses to co-operate with Justice.”
Donnie steps forwards and whispers something in the ear of Gerry - Gerry’s face becomes a shade paler.
Gerry gulps as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what you want to know.”
“I know what you are. You’re a private investigator and you don’t want to betray your client right?” Comes the voice from the television. “All I want to know is who you are working for.”
“I didn’t get to where I am today by giving up my clients to the likes of you - Athena.”
“You told him my name Donnie? You imbecile!”
“Sorry, it was a mistake. Who cares, he’s not walking out of here alive anyway.”
There’s a pause at the other end of the webcam as Athena seemingly considers her options.
“Donnie, we don’t kill without good reason.”
“I do,” corrects Donnie.
“Well I don’t. Look Mr private investigator I don’t know who you are and I don’t care but if you want to walk out of here alive I suggest you start talking, and fast.”
“Fuck you. He’s already said he’s gonna kill me anyway, I’m telling you nothing.”
“You have one last chance. Tell me who you’re working for or I call my boss and I promise you that doesn’t end well for you.
“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself with the thick end of a baseball bat you fucking bitch!”
Donnie slams his fist into Gerry’s face, a tooth as well as a splatter of blood fall into Gerry’s lap.
“STOP THAT DONNIE,” orders Athena before talking more calmly to the captive. “Look, there’s no need for anyone to get hurt here today. You’re just doing your job, I know that. All I need to know is why someone wants information about Justice. Tell me and you walk out of here with nothing more than a bruised ego and a missing tooth.”
Gerry looks like he’s considering it for a moment but professional pride gets in the way.
“You’ll hear nothing from me,” Gerry declares defiantly.
Athena sighs.
“So be it.”
The television switches to split screen, Athena on one side and a blank screen on the other. All of a sudden the blank side has text being typed on to it.
‘I am Justice.’
Donnie looks agitated. He’s worked for the group for many years but had never had involvement with the top boss. He’s heard rumours though, terrible terrible rumours.
‘Donnie, please break this man’s finger one at a time’ comes the written request. ‘When you’ve finished that you may remove all his teeth’.
Donnie shrugs as he makes his way behind Gerry. As Donnie takes hold of Gerry’s hand he whispers into the private investigators ear. “I’d talk sooner rather than later if I were you man, after your fingers and teeth it will be your eyes.”
“OK, OK, I’ll tell you what you want to know!” Yells Gerry.
‘Let’s start with who hired you?’
“Shane Mitchell, his name is Shane Mitchell.”
There’s an extended pause while nothing is being typed onto the screen. It’s almost as though the unseen Justice is thinking. Eventually words appear again.
‘Take him to Athena’s house, I wish to speak in person.’
“Whoa hold on right there,” interrupts Athena. “Donnie doesn’t know where I live or what I look and sound like and that’s exactly how I want it to stay. Not to mention the P.I.”
‘Do it.’ types Justice.
“My son is at home, I’m not taking this back there.”
‘You’re forgetting something Athena, they might not know where you live but I do and we all know what happens to people when they don’t do as I tell them.’
X x x x x x x x x x X
The newly built games room at the compound has been a hit. Shane's slightly more mellow state of mind has led to mopolyte drudgery being lowered to just fourteen hours of hard labour per day. Their reduced workload has given them something they haven't enjoyed for quite a while, free time. The games room consists of numerous sofas and comfortable chairs as well as games consoles, a pool table, darts board, table football and a collection of board games that would make the most spoilt child jealous. The mopolytes were somewhat taken aback by Shane's uncharacteristic generosity in provided such a space. Little do they know it's just yet another attempt to make the compound a more desirable homestead for Ellie.
Ellie is in the games room right now in fact having just arrived home from her and her fathers travels. Sitting on the edge of the pool table she has a multitude of mopolytes hovering around her listening to her every word. Even with their lack of brain cells as well as under developed social skills they are managing between them to laugh in all the right places as they smile gormlessly towards her. Seeing this scene without sound would perhaps lead you to believe that Ellie was delivery a speech of such monumental proportions that Jesus and Martin Luther will forever be disregarded as merely average orators, but that would be far from the truth. She's actually just telling them about her latest in a long line of drunken nights out with her new 'bestie' Andi Snow. Although the compound is not a prison, the overwhelmingly disproportionate male dominated environment has the mopolytes feeling as sexually starved as a heterosexual convict. There's barely a mopolyte at the compound who isn't vying for Ellie's attention.
Shane is only walking on by the games room when he notices the commotion. Twenty, perhaps thirty mopolytes congregated around the pool table. Shane stops and stands in the doorway for a moment to check what's going on. Then he sees her.
Ellie flicks back her hair with a toss of her head. Although she wore her hair in a high ponytail to look like Andi for a few days it was only to annoy Dad and it's now back in its familiar silky straight look. She smiles and laughs at something Dagmar Moppick says which just doesn't feel right to Shane, Moppick has never said anything funny in his life. Wait a minute...is she flirting?!
Shane marches into the games room and gives two loud claps of his hands to draw attention.
"Come on, back to work everyone," he yells.
Reluctantly the crowd disperses as horny mopolytes trudge to their menial duties.
"What are you doing?" Asks Shane when he's finally alone with his daughter.
“Erm...talking.”
“Hmmm, as long as that’s all it is.”
Ellie hops down from the pool table and starts racking up the balls into the triangle.
“Come on old fella, you might not be able to win your wrestling match but let’s see if you can at least beat me at pool.”
She breaks, sending the balls scattering here, there and everywhere around the table.
"So what's the plan?" Ellie asks.
"Plan?"
"Yeah, how are you going to beat D? Last time out was a struggle."
Shane shrugs. She's right, D is a challenge every bit as great as anything he's ever encountered. Morcant Davis, PT Merciless, Garmr, Rob Riot - D is just as dangerous and talented as any of the RSW legends.
"He's tricky, he's elusive. He's not a man to go against all guns blazing. Facing him at Masquerade has taught me a lot about the enigma."
Ellie has potted a number of balls as she works her way around the table. She bends over to take another shot right in front of Shane who has to avert his eyes as her denim shorts ride up to reveal a little lower butt cheek. She misses and Shane takes over.
"Against D I need to be careful," says Shane as he knocks a ball slowly and deliberately towards the corner pocket.
"I need to strategise and plan my way to victory," Shane says as he rolls another ball into the pocket while leaving himself in perfect position for his next shot.
Two more balls go down as Ellie admires her Dad's technique around the table.
"Hey, you're good at this."
"The same principles apply here as to why I'll beat D at Pandemonium - forward planning. Just like I've planned out every shot until I sink the black I have planned for months how to defeat D."
Shane flamboyantly slams the final black ball into the corner pocket before flashing a cocky smile at his daughter.
"Pandemonium is an event that sees unusual stipulations. Unexpected stipulations that can change at a moments notice. How does one prepare for a match like that?"
"I don't know," admits Ellie.
"You forge relations with the person who makes those stipulations of course."
"Esmeralda?"
"Exactly. You don't think she'll pick match types that suit me over D? Of course she will."
"That's cheating!" Protests Ellie.
Shane grins mischievously.
"It's only cheating if you get caught."
"I guess," concedes Ellie before deciding to call it a night. It's getting late and she's tired after their long journey.
As she leaves she bumps into Total Mopper as he sweeps the corridor outside the games room. His broom falls to the ground, the clatter attracting Shane's attention. Mopper bends to pick it up but his reactions are slower than Ellie's who is already picking the broomstick up. Mopper inadvertently finds his face inches from Ellie's taut buttocks. He stops and stares.
Shane's overprotective anger rises once more. As Ellie hands Mopper back his broom and heads to bed Total Mopper feels the flat of Shane's hand slapping the back of his head. Mopper scurried away as quick as his cumbersome legs can carry him.
"MOPSOOOOON!!!!!" Yells Shane.
Bash Mopson appears with alarming speed.
"Mopson, desperate times call for desperate measures - fetch the chastity belt!"
X x x x x x x x x x X
The leaves rustle in the evening breeze. Crickets and other insects can be heard getting on with their evening escapades in this suburban garden. The moon above is full making the night less bleak than it would otherwise have been. The silver birch tree that stands centrally in the garden would usually be home to numerous birds but not tonight. This evening the tree has been commandeered by something else. A man. The man who hopes to be the next Riot Star Wrestling champion - D.
It isn't the first time D has set up camp in this very tree. Perched comfortably, the agile former assassin has positioned himself in exactly the same place as all the other times. He is in fact perfectly level with the bedroom window that his eyes are transfixed upon. This isn't somewhere that could be considered a regular hangout for the man formerly known as Vendagor Oscuro. He's been here perhaps four or five times. He knows he shouldn't. He knows it's wrong. Sometimes this is something he just needs to do.
The young boy over which D watches is fast asleep. Laying on his side, eyes closed, chest moving in and out hypnotically. D has a thoughtful, wistful look in his eyes as he gazes upon the boy, the boy named Damien.
Many years have passed since the birth of D's young son but D has never been a father to him. The loss of his wife during childbirth had left D in a bad place, certainly not a place suited to raising a child. It was with great difficulty that D handed over the child to his best friend Michael and his wife Clara. Baby Damien was to be raised as their own. He would never know of his real mother's sacrifice nor his father's desertion.
D will never meet Damien. Even since the tragic death of his adoptive father it remains imperative that the youngster stays oblivious to his true biological roots. D will never meet his son but as a master of stealth it doesn't mean he can't watch him grow.
When D is at his most melancholy that's when he comes. When things are at their worst and his mental health at its lowest ebb that's when D needs this. That's when he climbs this tree.
The bedroom door opens allowing a little light from the hallway to spill into the room. Clara, the boys sole guardian, enters the boy's room to check on him. Michael had got lucky with Clara, she was as kind as she was beautiful with her elegant features and long wavy hair. That and she was a fantastic mother. In that regard D was every bit as fortunate as Michael in that he'd found her.
She kisses the boy gently on his cheek before leaving and closing the door shut behind her. D smiles to himself, Damien is in safe hands.
X x x x x x x x X
Shane is sitting in his private chambers enjoying a fine malt. In his huge leather Chesterfield he allows his head to flop back and closes his eyes with a big sigh, wallowing in the comfort. His relaxation is disturbed as the door burst open and Ellie marches up to him. With a metallic clank she drops something on his coffee table.
“What’s this?” She asks sternly.
“A present,” replies Shane.
“Mopson said you sent him with it. Did you seriously just give me a chastity belt to wear?”
"A what?" Shane asks, playing dumb.
"You know full well what I'm talking about," she accuses as she points at the offending article on his coffee table.
"Oh, your new underwear, do you like it?"
"Underwear? It's metal, solid steel!"
Shane looks at the chastity device quizzically as though completely oblivious to its construction. Colourful stickers of unicorns and care bears have been used to cover the garment, trying to disguise it’s true purpose.
"But...the unicorns, do you like the unicorns?"
"Oh yes, I love the unicorns..." says Ellie sarcastically, "...almost as much as I love the padlock at the front!”
"That's not a padlock, it's just - decoration".
Ellie holds the key aloft.
"Well...er...the accessories are just additional safety features. It’s practical, it’s wipe clean, so convenient”
“Perhaps I might change my mind about it if I see it being worn,” suggests Ellie.
“That’s more like it, yes, you should try it on!”
Ellie shakes her head and picks up the belt.
“Here,” she says as she offers her father the belt.
Shane looks bemused for a moment or two before it dawns on him her intentions.
“Me? No, no, that’s absurd. It’s for you.”
“Just try it on,” suggests Ellie “I want to see how it looks when being worn.
Reluctantly Shane steps into the metallic contraption and pulls it up his long legs. Once positioned correctly he clicks the latch and steps back to allow Ellie to gauge the appearance of her new underwear. Ellie steps forward and deftly shuts the front padlock much to the chagrin of her father. She holds up the key as she backs away and heads towards the door.
“Ellie? What are you doing?”
“We’ll see how you like being over protected shall we?”
As she opens the door to leave Shane begins to look more and more concerned.
“Ellie? Ellie? Come back Ellie…”
“You can have this back in the morning,” she explains as she gestures towards the key in her hand and closes the door behind her as she leaves.
“ELLIE?!”
Shane raps his knuckles on the front of the belt before pulling and testing the lock.
“Ellie?” he mumbles now talking to himself, “I need the toilet!”
X x x x x x x x x X
Headlights casting their glow onto the front of the house announce the arrival of a car as it pulls up in front of Clara's residence. D's attention is momentarily taken away from his son as he looks towards the unexpected arrival.
A man gets out and walks towards the door. Has Clara moved on from Michael? 'Good for her' thinks D, Michael would want her to be happy. The man doesn't look like her type if Michael was any indication of the kind of man she was attracted to. This man looks a lot more rough and ready than Michael ever was, in fact he has the hardened look of someone who has seen and done a lot of things he shouldn't have. Clara opens the door before he has the chance to knock.
They exchange a few words that are out of earshot from where D is sitting before the man returns to his car. He reaches into the back seat pulling something heavy towards him. It hits the floor with a thud. He hoists it upright before placing what is now obviously a man on his feet. The man is tied with his hands behind his back and his feet tethered so they can only separate perhaps an inch or two. A shove in the back prompts the captive to shuffle in ungainly manner towards the front door.
This isn't anything like what D would expect from Clara. Clara, the perfect wife and mother, kind to strangers and generous to a fault. What on earth has Clara gotten herself mixed up in? This seems to be more D's world than Clara's, the precise world D had wanted to avoid exposing his son to. With Damien in the house too, what on earth is Clara thinking?
D leaps down from his perch and lands almost silently on the grass below. With practised precision D sneaks silently towards the house and positions himself beneath the window that has just seen a lamp turned on.
The captive is quickly strapped to a chair before the man takes a step back to admire his handiwork.
"Mmmph," is the best the tied up individual can manage with his gag in place.
"There'll be plenty of time to talk when the boss arrives," warns the man.
He takes a seat and removes his gun from its holder. He begins playing with it, turning it around in his hands and examining the weapon before slowly and deliberately pointing it at the immobilised prisoner.
"Put that away!" Scolds Clara. "My son is upstairs, it's bad enough you're here at all without messing around with that thing."
D can't believe his eyes. This isn't Clara. Not the Clara he knows anyway. His incredulous surprise is multiplied tenfold at Donnie's next words.
"This thing is what pays the bills Athena."
Smashing glass makes everyone leap in surprise as the window is shattered to a million pieces as D leaps into the room, rolling out of his dive with little more than a few scratches.
"What the hell?!" Cries Clara, known as Athena to those under her control. "It's you!"
D stares at Clara, unable to believe what he has seen and heard.
"Athena?" Questions D.
Clara shakes her head, dismayed at what has transpired.
"Yes... I'm Athena." Clara admits.
D's head is in a spin as he contemplates the revelation. He's known Clara for years. He entrusted her with his only child. Likewise he has known Athena for a long time in a completely different capacity, never once suspecting they were one in the same. Athena had been D's handler. He never met her, never saw her, but when a hit needed to be carried out she was his liaison. He knew her as Athena, never knowing her true identity and never wanting to. Now he knows. His handler during his years as an assassin is the same women that is mother to his son.
The door opens and the small innocent face of a young boy pokes it's way around the corner.
"Mummy, I heard a noise."
Clara rushes over to Damien ensuring he doesn't see anything that's going on in the room.
"Its ok sweetie. Go back to bed, I just have a few friends visiting. There's nothing to worry about."
“Is that man ok mummy?” Damien points at Gerry Peterson who is gagged and tied to his chair.
“Yes darling, we’re just playing a little game.”
She ushers him away and back up stairs. D waits until he's gone before he speaks again.
"Jesus fucking christ Clara, what are you thinking of? Damien is upstairs!"
"I know, I know, I promise this is a first. I've never brought my work home."
"So why now, why him?" D asks as he points towards Gerry Peterson who remains tied to a chair.
“I don’t know, I really don’t! I’ve never been asked to bring anyone here before, I don’t know why this guy is so important that Justice themselves want to speak to him in person.”
“Justice, coming here?”
Clara nods.
“Nobody meets Justice, they’re too careful for that,” states D.
“I know, I’m as confused as you are.”
“I highly doubt that.”
D moves over to where Gerry Peterson is sitting and rips the gag from his mouth.
“Come on, speak up. Why is Justice taking such a special interest in you?”
Gerry looks at D clearly frightened of both him and the gun that Donnie still has poised to use at any moment should he be given an excuse.
“How should I know, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here!”
Donnie slams his fist into Gerry’s face.
“Stop that!” Yells Clara.
“Why, he’s gonna be at the bottom of Salt River by the end of the night anyway.”
“I told you already Donnie, no-one dies unless it’s warranted. We’re Justice, we kill murderers, paedophiles, the scum of the earth.”
A voice from the doorway surprises everyone at it’s unnoticed arrival.
“It’s so adorable that you still believe that Athena.”
D freezes at the voice coming from behind him. The voice of Justice is a voice he recognises all too well.
“And you D, always believing there was a righteousness to your murderous ways, it really is ever so endearing...Daaahling.”
D spins around to see Esmeralda Von Krauss smiling as though arriving at a family reunion. He feels faint. D had spent a number of years as a hired gun, killed so many people he’d lost count. Justifying his actions to himself he had always taken solace in the fact that his victims were the scum of the earth and were ill deserving of life. He had trusted the organisation he had known as Justice not to break that bond, not to kill the undeserving. D is speechless.
“Yes Dahling, you’ve worked for me far longer than the last couple of years in RSW, you’ve been my puppet for years.”
D’s legs feel weak and he holds onto the nearby table.
“Did you really think I took such an interest in you for your wrestling prowess. From the moment you decided to join RSW I already knew you were special. I knew I wanted you to be mine!”
“Be yours?” D manages to question. “You...you {No Means No} me, you {No Means No} Alyssa.”
“You resisted me, I don’t like to be told no.”
Donnie interrupts, pointing at Gerry Peterson. “Look, are we gonna kill this guy or not?”
He doesn’t get his response. Esmeralda smiles what appears to be an expression of sincerity as she puts her arm around the shoulder of another of her employees, only to then twist his neck - broken. Donnie slumps to the ground dead.
“Fuck! This is my home, my kid is upstairs!” Protests Clara aka Athena.
“YOUR child?” Questions Esmeralda.
“You know?” Asks Clara.
“Of course I know, I know everything about both of you.”
“You leave him out of this,” warns D.
Esmeralda smiles sweetly.
“Of course Dahling, what do you take me for? I would never hurt the child of a man I care for...” Esmeralda approaches D and runs her soft fingers down the side of his face. “...and I do care. Of course my feelings must be reciprocated for my generosity to remain intact.”
D recoils in horror. Is she threatening Damien? Is she genuinely using his son to make D hers? Does D have to belong to this woman to protect his son?
Esmeralda sees D glance at the photograph of Damien that sits on the mantelpiece. She walks over and picks up the picture in her hands, turning it over, examining it.
“You know, it might be better for all concerned if you are on my side. It would be very much in your interest to be with me rather than against me.”
Esmeralda paces over to the bound private investigator and places her hand on the shoulder of Gerry Peterson.
“You know this man is working for Shane Mitchell don’t you?”
“What?” Questions D.
“Hilarious isn’t it. Shane actually brought us together Dahling.”
“Who said anything about us being together.”
Esmeralda smiles, enjoying D’s strength of resistance.
“I did. We were meant for one another dahling. Justice, Riot Star Wrestling, they are just the tip of the iceberg of my empire. Armand has his little interests what with the Kharnival amongst others, I have mine. Justice is just one of my many personal indulgences. You can be a part of it dahling, starting this week when you destroy Shane Mitchell and become MY champion.”
“Wait a minute, aren’t you screwing Mitchell?”
“Are you jealous?” Esmeralda taunts. “He’s just a pawn in my game. YOU are my true champion. YOU are the one that should be standing by my side.”
D pauses for thought. He stares into the distance lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He then turns to Clara. He talks to her intimately, face to face inches apart.
“Do you love Damien?”
“Of course I do!” Replies Clara.
“You’ll always put him first and protect him at all costs?”
“Yes, always!”
“Then quit. Leave Justice and all this behind. Concentrate on being a mum, I’ll take care of you both financially. You don’t need to be ‘Athena’ anymore.”
Clara nods her head in agreement. She’d be delighted to see the back of this life.
D looks over at Esmeralda “You heard that?”
“I heard,” she confirms.
“It’s me you want, you’ll leave Clara and Damien alone?”
“Of course dahling, I’m not a monster - not all the time anyway.”
D approaches Esmeralda with a look of shame and embarrassment in his eyes. Esmeralda reaches out and strokes the enigma’s face.
“There’s one more thing dahling. Before you officially become my champion at Pandemonium you must cement our bond one more time…” she gestures towards Gerry “...kill him.”
D looks down towards the helpless man. He takes a few steps and positions himself behind the private investigator before looking up into the evil eyes of Esmeralda Von Krauss. He places his hands on either side of the man’s neck. He appears to be conflicted and unsure as he looks at Esmeralda, at Clara and at the pitiful creature before him. He thinks about Alyssa, his former best friend Michael and even Shane Mitchell. It’s then that he looks at the picture of Damien on the mantelpiece and it’s that which helps him make up his mind...
X x x x x x x x x x X
Shane Mitchell knows nothing of tonights events in Arizona. It’s late and the only light comes from a single flickering candle. Shane sits in his leather Chesterfield, not half as comfortably as he did earlier in the evening. The candle light dances in its reflection off the chastity belt that Shane reluctantly wears until morning. He picks up his drink but remembering his full bladder quickly puts his glass back down again. He folds his arms in disgruntled annoyance and despair as he realises what he’s about to do. He’s got no choice. Closing his eyes Shane breathes a huge sigh of relief as a warm moisture spreads from his nether regions and dribbles out from the confines of the chastity belt. His face turns into a grimace of mild disgust before shaking his head in disbelief. One thought dominates his mind.
“Is fatherhood really meant to be this undignified!”
