Post by hardcorehammer24 on Mar 8, 2022 14:52:55 GMT -5
“Señor Weñsell…você tem um visitante.”
The small common area of this Rio prison smelled of must and mildew, clearly showing the much of weeks without a custodian’s care. Crowded together we’re about 30 dirty Hispanic men…and Jakie Wentzel. All the prisoners were dressed in orange jumpsuits that also smelled as if they hadn’t been washed in a week. The smells didn’t bother Jakie however; years of hard labor in the fields and one wash with an old cloth at the end of the day before dinner was a common pastime. In all reality, the conditions of this small Brazilian prison were an upgrade to his life growing up in Intercourse.
“Yah speakin tah me, naw?” Jakie retorted, unfamiliar with the Portuguese language of the other men.
Before an response could occur, two large guards took each of Jake Wentzel’s arms, and roughly escorted him to a small corner corridor where prisoners could meet with visitors. Jakie was confused. Who would come to visit him, a stranger to the country and a recent resident of the prison? Could it have been Joey Lazarus? His one phone call had been to Lazarus, pleading to be bailed out. After all, he had claimed, the whole incident was indeed blown out of proportion.
Lazarus had not been amused. “Fuck off, Wentzel! You think because you win one small match against some lousy junkie, you can ask for whatever you want!? You bail your own Amish ass out of this!”
The window between Jakie and his guest was caked with dirt and scum, so at first he could only make out a vague figure. Tall and thin, with grey-white hair, the figure looked kindly, sitting and waiting. As the figure came closer into focus, Jakie made out a slightly wrinkled face that was unmistakable. The years had aged him considerably, but the quiet intensity of his eyes still burned.The rigidity of a clergy man, with the fashion sense of an “English” man.
“How did yah find me?”
Indeed, wearing an Old Order Amish-Style blazer and a Hawaiian shirt underneath, former Intercourse Bishop Heinrich Weaver spoke out in a calm, mild-mannered voice.
“How was I able to find you, my son? Your face is plastered all over the news down here! ‘Conquest Wrestling Federation, now picked up by the XHF Network. The Mennonite Mangler, and what not…’”
“Yah know what I mean…” Jakie’s eyes turned from the Bishops. The feelings of abandonment remained.
“I have nothin’ tah say tah you, preacher man.”
“I know I let you down, Jakieboy. I had to leave immediately to keep to you safe. My sins were far too heavy to ever atone for, and I didn’t want you to get more involved than you already were in the business of Armand Von Krauss. So I engaged in one last bargain…”
Jakie was intrigued, holding his silence no longer. “Yah mean with tha shadow man?”
“The Shadow Man?”
“His Order is tha reason I am here. I await his directions.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me enough, naw. He gifted me with tha money needed tah rebuild tha community. He found me a way tah be done with RSW fer good. He gave us all a better life, but now it iss time tah pay tha piper, ye bist me?”
Bishop Weaver turned to the nearby guard quickly and with great urgency.
“Tudo o que você precisar de prisioneiro, eu pagarei.”
“Este homem agrediu um policial nas ruas, sua fiança foi fixada em 60.000 reais brasileiros.”
“Não fale mais disso meu amigo.”
“E que o senhor te abenço, pastor…”
Suddenly, the guards surrounded Jakie once again, taking an arm each.
“I have bought your freedom. We have much to discuss, and little time. I just have one question…How did you get thrown into jail?”
“Yah don’t want tah know, father. These Rio people are not accustomed tah Buggies tha same as English are…nor to the horseshit on the road.”
The small common area of this Rio prison smelled of must and mildew, clearly showing the much of weeks without a custodian’s care. Crowded together we’re about 30 dirty Hispanic men…and Jakie Wentzel. All the prisoners were dressed in orange jumpsuits that also smelled as if they hadn’t been washed in a week. The smells didn’t bother Jakie however; years of hard labor in the fields and one wash with an old cloth at the end of the day before dinner was a common pastime. In all reality, the conditions of this small Brazilian prison were an upgrade to his life growing up in Intercourse.
“Yah speakin tah me, naw?” Jakie retorted, unfamiliar with the Portuguese language of the other men.
Before an response could occur, two large guards took each of Jake Wentzel’s arms, and roughly escorted him to a small corner corridor where prisoners could meet with visitors. Jakie was confused. Who would come to visit him, a stranger to the country and a recent resident of the prison? Could it have been Joey Lazarus? His one phone call had been to Lazarus, pleading to be bailed out. After all, he had claimed, the whole incident was indeed blown out of proportion.
Lazarus had not been amused. “Fuck off, Wentzel! You think because you win one small match against some lousy junkie, you can ask for whatever you want!? You bail your own Amish ass out of this!”
The window between Jakie and his guest was caked with dirt and scum, so at first he could only make out a vague figure. Tall and thin, with grey-white hair, the figure looked kindly, sitting and waiting. As the figure came closer into focus, Jakie made out a slightly wrinkled face that was unmistakable. The years had aged him considerably, but the quiet intensity of his eyes still burned.The rigidity of a clergy man, with the fashion sense of an “English” man.
“How did yah find me?”
Indeed, wearing an Old Order Amish-Style blazer and a Hawaiian shirt underneath, former Intercourse Bishop Heinrich Weaver spoke out in a calm, mild-mannered voice.
“How was I able to find you, my son? Your face is plastered all over the news down here! ‘Conquest Wrestling Federation, now picked up by the XHF Network. The Mennonite Mangler, and what not…’”
“Yah know what I mean…” Jakie’s eyes turned from the Bishops. The feelings of abandonment remained.
“I have nothin’ tah say tah you, preacher man.”
“I know I let you down, Jakieboy. I had to leave immediately to keep to you safe. My sins were far too heavy to ever atone for, and I didn’t want you to get more involved than you already were in the business of Armand Von Krauss. So I engaged in one last bargain…”
Jakie was intrigued, holding his silence no longer. “Yah mean with tha shadow man?”
“The Shadow Man?”
“His Order is tha reason I am here. I await his directions.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me enough, naw. He gifted me with tha money needed tah rebuild tha community. He found me a way tah be done with RSW fer good. He gave us all a better life, but now it iss time tah pay tha piper, ye bist me?”
Bishop Weaver turned to the nearby guard quickly and with great urgency.
“Tudo o que você precisar de prisioneiro, eu pagarei.”
“Este homem agrediu um policial nas ruas, sua fiança foi fixada em 60.000 reais brasileiros.”
“Não fale mais disso meu amigo.”
“E que o senhor te abenço, pastor…”
Suddenly, the guards surrounded Jakie once again, taking an arm each.
“I have bought your freedom. We have much to discuss, and little time. I just have one question…How did you get thrown into jail?”
“Yah don’t want tah know, father. These Rio people are not accustomed tah Buggies tha same as English are…nor to the horseshit on the road.”