11-05-2024, 09:35 PM
OOC: Managed to actually get something done. Sitting down for the past three hours, smashing it out. Hopefully, it makes sense and I hope you can get something up, Dexter. Goodluck.
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OFF CAMERA - Family travails…
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Victory.
Is there anything more wished than victory in this world? Maybe sex? Money? No. These are seen as victorious accomplishments. They're a part of the bigger picture. The grand picture. Victory. Winning. Conquering. All of these words are merely a way to express our triumph over something. The ultimate feeling of the universe. The reason we are born for. From our first breath until our last breath, we seize life and try to be as triumphant as possible. Over anyone or everyone if so needed. What matters, in the end, is who was still standing when the dust settled. History is nothing but a story as remembered by the victors. Those who survived to tell the tale their way. Who seriously gives a damn about a loser? The world is full of meaningless existences of losers.
The saviours of the world are those who have the power to go further than any other man. Those who have the power to be victors. Winners. Conquerors. Talking is easy however, getting it done is the hard part. If not, everyone would have their name in history, but only a few, select men are noteworthy of such deeds. Giants. Gods. Their names would be remembered for the rest of the human race's existence. And through their works, their deeds, their words and their prowess, they would live forever through mankind.
Our story begins in a place unknown. As you glare around, you realise you're inside a hallway. This is no ordinary hallway, however. As you examine it more carefully, you realise the dark, old stones are covered in dirt, dust and even blood all around. It looked like a proper dungeon taken from a horror movie. Twisted, sick and disgusting. There are also a couple of doors, one for each side. They were made of dark wood and once again seemed incredibly old and rotten. This would surely be a place where you wouldn't want to live. However, the owner of this didn't use it as a living place either. It was rather a warehouse for all his dirty, secret activities. Hidden from public view, hidden from the world. This was his domain, and his domain alone. Free to rule it however he saw fit, as twisted or perverted his desires would be. He had absolute power, the wish of every man. And as everyone who has power, he used it to the point of abuse. In here he was lord. In here he was law. In here was supreme. He was more than a man or a mortal within these walls... he was... God.
A chained noise starts to become louder and louder on your back. It draws your attention and as you look backwards, you see three men. The two on the sides look like proper thugs on steroids. The one on your left is named Marco La Scala. He was very tanned and had a marine buzz haircut and a piercing on his left eyebrow. He is built like a bull, but you can easily see that. He's wearing a white, tight-to-the-body sleeveless shirt, showing his many tattoos on the arms, along with jeans, a black belt and timberland boots. A very typical design in clothing. In his jeans, you can see the shape of a gun with only its handle popping out over his white sleeveless shirt. The other on the side was wearing a very different attire. He was wearing an oversized T-shirt and jeans, with some black sneakers. If he had any weapons on him, you couldn't see it with your naked eye. He wasn't nearly as built, although not exactly skinny either and was just a fair-skinned bald man with a big goatee. His name was Fabio Argenziano.
As for the man in the middle. You wouldn't know his name. Neither would I. He was not a friend of the other men, as he seemed to have been incredibly beaten up and was currently being dragged on his knees by the other two men. He looked tall and well built. He had a ripped shirt, black jeans, and black socks as he was wearing no shoes. He had a black bag on his head, which covered his identity, but you could see blood dripping from the bag and going over his nearly naked chest. Some bruises could be noted as well. Interestingly, although not tied up by any means, the man had a large chain wrapped around him, which was making all those noises that brought this matter to your attention in the first place.
As they were walking towards the end of the hallway, some screams of a girl started to become louder and louder. The man being dragged seemed to respond to them, though he barely could move, the other two men didn't seem even bothered by them though. It seemed as if they were just used to them. One of the doors suddenly opened by their side and another man came out. Both men dragging the poor fellow seemed surprised to see the other man there, although happy, just like the man who had just come out. He was zipping his jeans and was wearing black sneakers and a black shirt. He shoved his short curly hair backwards as he was greeted by Marco.
"'Sup man!"
"Hey! Whatcha guys doin'?"
"The usual..."
"The Boss wants to see this guy. You?"
"I was just bedding in the new girl we’ve got. Quite literally! There’s probably going to be some left for you most likely!"
"No man, i’ll do alot of things, but not that. I’ll pass.”
The man's name was Alessandro. He then walked away. Before he closed the door, Marco caught a glimpse of the girl he was talking about slightly. Blonde, fair skinned and very thin. She was crying and screaming while a dark-skinned man was standing behind her. That man was Jimmy. Marco hated him, especially the way he and Alessandro treated the women around here. He’s always wanted to take Jimmy down a peg or two, but unlike Marco and Fabio however, who worked directly under the boss, Jimmy seemed to have much more space to move as he was in charge of his particular "business", and just worked under the boss's wing. Alessandro was his right hand, and he also worked directly under the boss, which further strengthened the boss's connection to Jimmy. This was out of Marco’s control, however, so he kept moving forward towards the end of the hallway, pretending not to have seen anything. Fabio followed his lead, without ever getting a glimpse of what was inside the room. He knew he probably wasn't getting anything from there so it didn't even bother. He and Jimmy were big buddies in the past but their friendship had recently met some obstacles.
As they approached the last door to the left, Fabio dropped the man who almost fell like a dead body and proceeded to open the door. Marco picked up the man all by himself and dragged him alone to the inside of the room. Fabio stayed outside and closed the door, standing still as a good guard. On the inside, Marco brought the man to the middle of the room and, whilst keeping him on his knees, took the bag out of his head. The man's face was visibly beaten. He had short brown hair and glazed eyes, though he couldn't really open them as they were so swollen. Bruises all over his face, and his nose was broken. Blood was dripping from his mouth, eyebrows, nose and even ears. It would seem rather amazing the man seemed to still be alive after so much damage had been done to him. As he heard someone laughing, the man tried his best to raise his head and take a glare around, although it wasn't particularly easy as even his neck hurt when he tried to move his head. Not that it would help much, really, as in the end, he could barely see anything with his swollen eyes.
This room didn't seem anything like a dungeon. Rather, it seemed a proper work office of some rich guy. The walls were beige and plain, with some big paintings covering its emptiness. There were two black couches, one on the south wall where Marco came through and one on the west wall. They both touched each other, rather looking like just one big L-shaped couch. In the middle of the room, there was a big carpet, with Italian designs on it, coloured from dark red, to white and green themes. In front of the man stood a big, glassy desk, with a couple of computer screens standing on top of it and a big rack on the back, which was probably connected to the screens. Standing on the big chair, in front of this desk, was a man who seemed to be playing with a couple of papers and folders. You could see this man was dressed in a proper, black suit, with a white shirt and a red tie. He was the person the poor beaten fellow heard laughing. His face however remained hidden in the shadows. Only his evil smile stands out. As he greeted Marco, he bowed his head slightly forward, indicating both his respect and fear for the person standing in his front.
"Hello, Marco."
"Boss."
"Have you finished all the tasks I've assigned to you, yet?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. So... this is him, hmm? I've always thought he'd be..."
The man got up and walked around the desk, walking towards the middle of the room until he was standing very few inches far away from Marco and the beaten man. He snapped his fingers, and Marco quickly went outside, coming a couple of seconds later with a small steel chair. He set up the chair just behind the man, and once that was done he forced the man to sit on it. He also seemed to use the chains that were wrapped around him to tie him to the chair. Tying both his arms, legs, and even neck to the chair, to make sure he couldn't possibly move any longer. The man coughed some blood, in pain from everything that had been done to him. Noticing this, Marco slapped the man with so much strength he almost took him to the floor again. The man coughed more and tried to grasp for air. Marco seemed incredibly nervous as he turned himself to face the boss, with his head looking to the floor in shame.
"This carpet wasn't exactly cheap... Marco..."
"I'm sorry, boss!"
"I'm aware. You've done enough. Leave us alone."
As quick as a flash, Marco turned on his heels and left the room. The boss noticed Marco was nearly sweating, as he feared for his well being after spreading blood on his carpet. Marco had proved to be one of his best hands however, and as such the boss wouldn't as easily dispatch him, although he wouldn't exactly hesitate either if the time came, and Marco knew it. With his right hand, he grabbed the man's jaw and pushed his head up, so the man could see his face causing him considerable pain in the process. Seeing his face now, the man noticed he had blonde, short hair, and eyes that looked just like his. He was well-shaved and looked like someone you'd expect to meet on Wall Street or a bank. His smile kept shining, however, as it showed how evil the man was. It was even "creepy" and scary.
"We... my friend... have a lot to talk about..."
"Please... I did nothing wrong..."
"Oh! Most certainly not!"
"Then why... me? Please... I have a family..."
"Indeed. We're aware of who your family is. That is why you're here."
"Who are you?"
The boss laughed. Once again that laugh. The man started to believe that this man was somewhat of a madman with more money than he should have. The boss then slapped him, and the man started to cough blood again. As he coughed, the boss started to laugh. He noticed some blood was on his hand, he picked up a paper and slowly cleaned his hand, throwing the paper in a small black garbage that was beneath the desk. He then came back to the man and once again grabbed him by his jaw and this time he approached his face to the man's face, once again, smiling like the devil.
"Who I am, is not important. In fact. The one who's asking the questions is me. And you're going to answer them."
"I-I'll do whatever you... want... but please..."
"Good boy! I suppose you're wondering why you are here. In fact. You've asked about it already. It's none of your business but I'll tell you anyways. You see... this is all because of your father."
"My... Dad?"
As the boss talked about his son, the man started to remember his son. It’s been a while since he saw his dad. After the death of his stepmother, he tried to reach him but to no avail. He wanted to be there for his brothers and wanted to make sure they were being looked well after. If this was about his Dad, surely they’d be brought up in conversation. Managing to slowly open his swollen eyes slightly, he saw the delight his pain brought to the man standing in front of him.
"Yes. You may be unaware of this, but he's done wrong to us in the past."
"Really? Color me shocked!" He said sarcastically and with a grin, which led to another hit to the face.
“Your piece of shit, Dad, put my brother in jail!"
This time, it was the boss who suddenly stopped for some seconds.. The boss reminded himself of his brother. A tall, semi-built man. Very short, dark hair, and always with a somewhat sick smile on his face that reminded the boss of himself. He was younger, however, about twenty eight or seven years old now. He knew who put him in jail. He even knew the friends who helped put his brother in jail. He also knew why though, he knew his brother killed someone. A girl.
But the boss didn't care one ounce about that. Why would he care? He cared about his family, not someone else’s. And having his brother rotting away in prison. His enemies, as he surely had some, could use that to their advantage. This wasn't a situation the boss liked to be caught up with. Thankfully, from his perspective, none had succeeded in doing such a thing. However, the boss held great contempt for the man's Dad for having harmed his brother, and even him indirectly.
So now he has to pay... and unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow, as we've threatened him in the past but he seemed to forget it as the years passed..."
"What... do you mean?"
“Seven or eight years ago, I can't remember exactly, we threatened him to quit wrestling. And he did. But now he's back!"
"He's... back?"
"You were not aware?"
"No..."
"Can’t call yourself a good son, can you?"
"He’s no father of the year himself?"
A couple of tears ran down the man's face, as the boss just stood there looking at him in shock. For the boss, family was one of the most important things there could be, and yet, this man seemingly didn’t even care that much about his blood. He hoped his Dad wouldn't be as careless about family, or else his plans would never come to fruition. But he was sure he wasn't like his father, as what made him put his brother in jail was the fact that he murdered his long-term girlfriend.
The man tried not the cry, but the truth was that he still felt anger towards his Dad. For all these years he had kept the matter very well locked in his subconscious. He knew his father loved wrestling and walked away from it due to his brothers being born and he wanted to be the father he always wished he would’ve been for him… But it seems he kept the real reason hidden from all his loved ones.
"He put my brother in jail... and as soon as he gets out of jail he's going to want a piece of him... but the death of a star won't go unnoticed... will it? That's why we had to make him quit wrestling... so people would forget about him."
"But... if he's coming back... your plan failed..."
"Indeed. And that will not do!"
"That's... too bad!"
The man was quick the answer back and started laughing in the boss's face. This type of defiance was not something the boss regarded as courage, however, but rather pure, genuine stupidity. He pushed his hand backwards to get some good distance and then slammed it forward, slapping the man as hard as he could. The man and the chair fell together sideways after the impact, of balance. No more laughs were heard, as the man started coughing once again. The boss seized the opportunity to kick him in the chest, in a bold move, filled with anger, for how could such a man dare laugh in the face of someone like him?!
This was unacceptable. He breathed more heavily, frustrated that someone had laughed in his face. As he managed to compose himself again he quickly picked another paper to clean his hands from the blood, and after discarding it, he shoved his hair back and straightened his suit to look tidy again, as if nothing had ever happened. The boss started to breathe a little deeper, and he picked up the man and the chair and pulled them straight. Once again he put himself right in front of the man, and grabbed his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet each other one more time. The boss started laughing and looked at a wall for a brief moment before getting back to staring at the man's eyes, with a smile on his face.
"His return wasn’t expected…. He’s telling the world why he’s back, but at what price, huh?"
"I guess you’re on about me! You can barter my life with him, but i think that’s going to do you more harm than good…"
"I’m not scared, kid. You see, by my standards his death would have been done already... and it would look natural... such as a steroid overdose or something. But my brother... boy he's crazy. He wants to fight him to the death. You've pictured that? He wants to fight a professional wrestler and kill him with his own, bare hands..."
"Murder?!... That’s cute… I know for a fact my father has put a few men in the ground himself, so it’ll be something to feast my eyes on…"
"Such a death however needs to be kept in the shadows. And for it to be kept in the shadows, your father needs to be hiding in the shadows. If he's standing in front of the world with his arms raised high... such a death will not be possible."
The man wished he could just free himself and stop this nonsense. That this was nothing more than a nightmare, or if not, that he would be granted the power to stop them right now and save his father from the problems that he sees now coming his way. But once again reality found him powerless to do anything against these people, as his father’s apparent enemies are much more powerful than him, at this moment in time.
"But... why do you need... m-me? I’m guessing to make him suffer!!"
"Oh, the answer is simple. We need him to remember that we're still around, and waiting for him. We're going to blackmail him. Expecting, of course, that he has more interest in your well-being than you have in his..."
“That’s stupidity at its highest. I know he loves me, but him wanting to come back to wrestling was something he’s been yearning for…."
"Well everyone has a weakness. We'll find his. And if your death is necessary in the process, well... I wished I could offer you a more... meaningful death."
Once again the man laughed. He knew for sure the last time he had done it, he got under the nerve of the boss. And this time it didn't seem to be much different. The boss dropped his jaw and was about to punch him this time, but instead, he grabbed his hair and started walking around. As he composed himself again, he glared straight into his eyes, as he slowly bit a bit of his under lip, trying to keep himself together and not fall in a fit of anger and start kicking the living shit out of the man. The boss realised that if he continued to beat the man, who was already beaten to hell, in the end, he would end up killing him. And the boss couldn't let himself be found as a killer, not with his own hands. Besides, he still needed the man alive so he could get to his dad, otherwise, all this would have been a massive waste of time, and in a world where time is money, this couldn't be accepted. He wondered, however, why would someone be in such a condition be laughing... as the boss saw it, there was nothing laughable about this, especially not from the man's perspective.
"What's so funny about this?"
"You guys... think you own the w-world... don't you? Well... He won’t cave… Instead, he’ll burn everything you’ve built down to the ground if anything happens to me."
As he cursed the boss, in his boldest move and display of courage, the man tried to cover his face the most he could as he was sure there was a big beating coming. He stood still for a couple of seconds, waiting for the boss to strike. However, he felt no strike for a period that seemed to last for minutes, he looked up and found the boss to be extremely still and quiet. His eyes were as open as he had ever seen in a human being. The man could tell that the boss was most surprised. He wondered why, however... Had someone who was able to kidnap him not know enough about him?
"Most... intriguing!"
The boss picked up a small knife he kept on the top of his desk and a piece of paper. He approached the man, who tried to get away as quickly as possible. Preventing any fight from happening, the boss kicked the man and both he and the chair fell backwards. The man hit his head hard and couldn't barely move anymore. Pain was going through his entire body in a way he had never felt before. He believed he couldn't take it any longer, and that if he didn't get to a hospital soon enough, then he'd die. And this wasn't very far-fetched from the truth, as indeed the man was suffering from a considerable amount of damage done to him by several people to get him to this point. The boss used the knife to cut the man's arm. The man screamed as he felt the cold blade opening his skin as if it were butter in the summer. His warm, red blood started dripping quickly from the cut. As the man yelled, the enthusiasm of the boss seemed to grow larger. He used his knife as a pen and started writing a message on the paper, using the blood from the man as his ink.
"MARCO!"
The man laughed as he finished the letter. And quick as a flash, Marco came in through the door. He had waited outside with Fabio all this time and was simply waiting for the boss to say his name to come in. He seemed very surprised to see the man on the floor, bleeding and his boss writing a letter with his blood on the floor.
"Yes... boss?"
"I need you to take this man to Marie so she can take care of him. If nobody stops this bleeding he's probably going to die and that will not do. We need him alive. You hear me?"
"Yes, boss!... do you want me to talk with Susan as well?
"Yes. Tell her that my office needs to be cleaned. As quick as possible."
"Yes, boss!"
"Also... who is your most trusted man?"
"Fabio, he's waiting right outside sir. Why?"
"Give him this letter, and tell him it’s to be hand-delivered..."
"To who?"
"I need it delivered as soon as possible... to Rayne Young."
"Yes sir!"
The boss finished writing the letter, he dried the blood so the message wouldn't be lost and then gave it to Marco. As he turned his back, Marco picked up Rayne’s son, Clay by the chair and pulled him with himself outside his boss's office. He closed the door quickly, so the boss wouldn't be bothered anymore. The truth is that, anyone who knew the boss personally was frightened to death by him. He gave the letter to Fabio who looked oddly at him as he tried to unchain the man from the chair. Fabio helped him out. Once they managed to take him out of the chair, Marco gave him the chair and grabbed the man who couldn't even stand on his knees anymore.
"Look. Track down Rayne Young and give him that letter. And on your way out talk with Susan, tell her to go clean the boss's office as soon as he can, ok?"
"What the hell was going on in there man?"
"I dunno. And I don't wanna know. And you shouldn't either."
"Alright man. I’m on it."
Marco dragged the near-dead body of Clay away. Fabio looked down at the letter and looked back at Marco dragging Clay down the hall, thinking to himself, what on earth is going on… He knew his boss had some dealings with Rayne about eight years ago, but nothing’s been said on the matter since. What is truly going on!?!?!
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ON CAMERA - Shoot
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“Dexter…. Fucking… Grant… And your little bitch boy, Weasel. I’ve seen the shit you’ve been spouting and how you like to think you’ve gone off the grid. You’re a hypocrite. Living off the grid? Hate social media and what technology has done to the generations of people on this earth? And you’re using both to propitiate your cause.
You see Dex, i’m 43. The use of social media and technology has gone beyond anyone’s imagination. People are seduced by it all, and to me, i couldn’t give a rat's ass if i ever use the internet or social media again. But to attack me to try and spread your propaganda. Disconnect to reconnect, right? In principle, i agree with you, Dex. But you’ve poked the wrong bear in the way you’ve gone about it.
To take my cell, which has my family's names and contacts, putting their privacy at risk is something i can’t let lie. I was always going to kick your ass for attacking me with my interests elsewhere. But when you put my family in the mixer, you done fucked up boy. And the icing on the cake, Dex? It’s happening in my second home. My home away from home, Motor City Baybee.
The MC holds fond memories from the past. The Joe Louis Arena became my fortress, and even though it’s been torn down, the little caesars will have to do it instead. New Arena, same town, same fucking outcome. At Under Attack, Dex, you won’t know what’s hit you. The anger and hatred i’ve got for something fucking around with my family, there’s no coming back for you now.
For someone who claims to live off the grid, it makes me wonder how you got all that info on Chase Upshaw! You and Weasel, you’re both the type of guys that lurk around social media with faceless accounts. Both of you are just faceless pussies when it’s all said and done. I’m not just going to beat you at Under Attack, i’m going to make you bleed. And once i’m done with you, you will want to tuck your tail and finally leave to actually live off the grid.
Unlike you, Dex. When i say i’m going to do something, i’ll make good on it. I’m going to blaze a train, Dex. Continuing with you at Under Attack. Say a prayer for yourself and Weasel, because i will bury both of you.”
“I don’t want to be a product of my environment, i want my environment to be a product of me. I’ve got my self-esteem back, and i’ve got my confidence up. And Dexter Grant, that means you’re in for a world of hurt in the Motor City.
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OFF CAMERA - Family travails…
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Victory.
Is there anything more wished than victory in this world? Maybe sex? Money? No. These are seen as victorious accomplishments. They're a part of the bigger picture. The grand picture. Victory. Winning. Conquering. All of these words are merely a way to express our triumph over something. The ultimate feeling of the universe. The reason we are born for. From our first breath until our last breath, we seize life and try to be as triumphant as possible. Over anyone or everyone if so needed. What matters, in the end, is who was still standing when the dust settled. History is nothing but a story as remembered by the victors. Those who survived to tell the tale their way. Who seriously gives a damn about a loser? The world is full of meaningless existences of losers.
The saviours of the world are those who have the power to go further than any other man. Those who have the power to be victors. Winners. Conquerors. Talking is easy however, getting it done is the hard part. If not, everyone would have their name in history, but only a few, select men are noteworthy of such deeds. Giants. Gods. Their names would be remembered for the rest of the human race's existence. And through their works, their deeds, their words and their prowess, they would live forever through mankind.
Our story begins in a place unknown. As you glare around, you realise you're inside a hallway. This is no ordinary hallway, however. As you examine it more carefully, you realise the dark, old stones are covered in dirt, dust and even blood all around. It looked like a proper dungeon taken from a horror movie. Twisted, sick and disgusting. There are also a couple of doors, one for each side. They were made of dark wood and once again seemed incredibly old and rotten. This would surely be a place where you wouldn't want to live. However, the owner of this didn't use it as a living place either. It was rather a warehouse for all his dirty, secret activities. Hidden from public view, hidden from the world. This was his domain, and his domain alone. Free to rule it however he saw fit, as twisted or perverted his desires would be. He had absolute power, the wish of every man. And as everyone who has power, he used it to the point of abuse. In here he was lord. In here he was law. In here was supreme. He was more than a man or a mortal within these walls... he was... God.
A chained noise starts to become louder and louder on your back. It draws your attention and as you look backwards, you see three men. The two on the sides look like proper thugs on steroids. The one on your left is named Marco La Scala. He was very tanned and had a marine buzz haircut and a piercing on his left eyebrow. He is built like a bull, but you can easily see that. He's wearing a white, tight-to-the-body sleeveless shirt, showing his many tattoos on the arms, along with jeans, a black belt and timberland boots. A very typical design in clothing. In his jeans, you can see the shape of a gun with only its handle popping out over his white sleeveless shirt. The other on the side was wearing a very different attire. He was wearing an oversized T-shirt and jeans, with some black sneakers. If he had any weapons on him, you couldn't see it with your naked eye. He wasn't nearly as built, although not exactly skinny either and was just a fair-skinned bald man with a big goatee. His name was Fabio Argenziano.
As for the man in the middle. You wouldn't know his name. Neither would I. He was not a friend of the other men, as he seemed to have been incredibly beaten up and was currently being dragged on his knees by the other two men. He looked tall and well built. He had a ripped shirt, black jeans, and black socks as he was wearing no shoes. He had a black bag on his head, which covered his identity, but you could see blood dripping from the bag and going over his nearly naked chest. Some bruises could be noted as well. Interestingly, although not tied up by any means, the man had a large chain wrapped around him, which was making all those noises that brought this matter to your attention in the first place.
As they were walking towards the end of the hallway, some screams of a girl started to become louder and louder. The man being dragged seemed to respond to them, though he barely could move, the other two men didn't seem even bothered by them though. It seemed as if they were just used to them. One of the doors suddenly opened by their side and another man came out. Both men dragging the poor fellow seemed surprised to see the other man there, although happy, just like the man who had just come out. He was zipping his jeans and was wearing black sneakers and a black shirt. He shoved his short curly hair backwards as he was greeted by Marco.
"'Sup man!"
"Hey! Whatcha guys doin'?"
"The usual..."
"The Boss wants to see this guy. You?"
"I was just bedding in the new girl we’ve got. Quite literally! There’s probably going to be some left for you most likely!"
"No man, i’ll do alot of things, but not that. I’ll pass.”
The man's name was Alessandro. He then walked away. Before he closed the door, Marco caught a glimpse of the girl he was talking about slightly. Blonde, fair skinned and very thin. She was crying and screaming while a dark-skinned man was standing behind her. That man was Jimmy. Marco hated him, especially the way he and Alessandro treated the women around here. He’s always wanted to take Jimmy down a peg or two, but unlike Marco and Fabio however, who worked directly under the boss, Jimmy seemed to have much more space to move as he was in charge of his particular "business", and just worked under the boss's wing. Alessandro was his right hand, and he also worked directly under the boss, which further strengthened the boss's connection to Jimmy. This was out of Marco’s control, however, so he kept moving forward towards the end of the hallway, pretending not to have seen anything. Fabio followed his lead, without ever getting a glimpse of what was inside the room. He knew he probably wasn't getting anything from there so it didn't even bother. He and Jimmy were big buddies in the past but their friendship had recently met some obstacles.
As they approached the last door to the left, Fabio dropped the man who almost fell like a dead body and proceeded to open the door. Marco picked up the man all by himself and dragged him alone to the inside of the room. Fabio stayed outside and closed the door, standing still as a good guard. On the inside, Marco brought the man to the middle of the room and, whilst keeping him on his knees, took the bag out of his head. The man's face was visibly beaten. He had short brown hair and glazed eyes, though he couldn't really open them as they were so swollen. Bruises all over his face, and his nose was broken. Blood was dripping from his mouth, eyebrows, nose and even ears. It would seem rather amazing the man seemed to still be alive after so much damage had been done to him. As he heard someone laughing, the man tried his best to raise his head and take a glare around, although it wasn't particularly easy as even his neck hurt when he tried to move his head. Not that it would help much, really, as in the end, he could barely see anything with his swollen eyes.
This room didn't seem anything like a dungeon. Rather, it seemed a proper work office of some rich guy. The walls were beige and plain, with some big paintings covering its emptiness. There were two black couches, one on the south wall where Marco came through and one on the west wall. They both touched each other, rather looking like just one big L-shaped couch. In the middle of the room, there was a big carpet, with Italian designs on it, coloured from dark red, to white and green themes. In front of the man stood a big, glassy desk, with a couple of computer screens standing on top of it and a big rack on the back, which was probably connected to the screens. Standing on the big chair, in front of this desk, was a man who seemed to be playing with a couple of papers and folders. You could see this man was dressed in a proper, black suit, with a white shirt and a red tie. He was the person the poor beaten fellow heard laughing. His face however remained hidden in the shadows. Only his evil smile stands out. As he greeted Marco, he bowed his head slightly forward, indicating both his respect and fear for the person standing in his front.
"Hello, Marco."
"Boss."
"Have you finished all the tasks I've assigned to you, yet?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. So... this is him, hmm? I've always thought he'd be..."
The man got up and walked around the desk, walking towards the middle of the room until he was standing very few inches far away from Marco and the beaten man. He snapped his fingers, and Marco quickly went outside, coming a couple of seconds later with a small steel chair. He set up the chair just behind the man, and once that was done he forced the man to sit on it. He also seemed to use the chains that were wrapped around him to tie him to the chair. Tying both his arms, legs, and even neck to the chair, to make sure he couldn't possibly move any longer. The man coughed some blood, in pain from everything that had been done to him. Noticing this, Marco slapped the man with so much strength he almost took him to the floor again. The man coughed more and tried to grasp for air. Marco seemed incredibly nervous as he turned himself to face the boss, with his head looking to the floor in shame.
"This carpet wasn't exactly cheap... Marco..."
"I'm sorry, boss!"
"I'm aware. You've done enough. Leave us alone."
As quick as a flash, Marco turned on his heels and left the room. The boss noticed Marco was nearly sweating, as he feared for his well being after spreading blood on his carpet. Marco had proved to be one of his best hands however, and as such the boss wouldn't as easily dispatch him, although he wouldn't exactly hesitate either if the time came, and Marco knew it. With his right hand, he grabbed the man's jaw and pushed his head up, so the man could see his face causing him considerable pain in the process. Seeing his face now, the man noticed he had blonde, short hair, and eyes that looked just like his. He was well-shaved and looked like someone you'd expect to meet on Wall Street or a bank. His smile kept shining, however, as it showed how evil the man was. It was even "creepy" and scary.
"We... my friend... have a lot to talk about..."
"Please... I did nothing wrong..."
"Oh! Most certainly not!"
"Then why... me? Please... I have a family..."
"Indeed. We're aware of who your family is. That is why you're here."
"Who are you?"
The boss laughed. Once again that laugh. The man started to believe that this man was somewhat of a madman with more money than he should have. The boss then slapped him, and the man started to cough blood again. As he coughed, the boss started to laugh. He noticed some blood was on his hand, he picked up a paper and slowly cleaned his hand, throwing the paper in a small black garbage that was beneath the desk. He then came back to the man and once again grabbed him by his jaw and this time he approached his face to the man's face, once again, smiling like the devil.
"Who I am, is not important. In fact. The one who's asking the questions is me. And you're going to answer them."
"I-I'll do whatever you... want... but please..."
"Good boy! I suppose you're wondering why you are here. In fact. You've asked about it already. It's none of your business but I'll tell you anyways. You see... this is all because of your father."
"My... Dad?"
As the boss talked about his son, the man started to remember his son. It’s been a while since he saw his dad. After the death of his stepmother, he tried to reach him but to no avail. He wanted to be there for his brothers and wanted to make sure they were being looked well after. If this was about his Dad, surely they’d be brought up in conversation. Managing to slowly open his swollen eyes slightly, he saw the delight his pain brought to the man standing in front of him.
"Yes. You may be unaware of this, but he's done wrong to us in the past."
"Really? Color me shocked!" He said sarcastically and with a grin, which led to another hit to the face.
“Your piece of shit, Dad, put my brother in jail!"
This time, it was the boss who suddenly stopped for some seconds.. The boss reminded himself of his brother. A tall, semi-built man. Very short, dark hair, and always with a somewhat sick smile on his face that reminded the boss of himself. He was younger, however, about twenty eight or seven years old now. He knew who put him in jail. He even knew the friends who helped put his brother in jail. He also knew why though, he knew his brother killed someone. A girl.
But the boss didn't care one ounce about that. Why would he care? He cared about his family, not someone else’s. And having his brother rotting away in prison. His enemies, as he surely had some, could use that to their advantage. This wasn't a situation the boss liked to be caught up with. Thankfully, from his perspective, none had succeeded in doing such a thing. However, the boss held great contempt for the man's Dad for having harmed his brother, and even him indirectly.
So now he has to pay... and unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow, as we've threatened him in the past but he seemed to forget it as the years passed..."
"What... do you mean?"
“Seven or eight years ago, I can't remember exactly, we threatened him to quit wrestling. And he did. But now he's back!"
"He's... back?"
"You were not aware?"
"No..."
"Can’t call yourself a good son, can you?"
"He’s no father of the year himself?"
A couple of tears ran down the man's face, as the boss just stood there looking at him in shock. For the boss, family was one of the most important things there could be, and yet, this man seemingly didn’t even care that much about his blood. He hoped his Dad wouldn't be as careless about family, or else his plans would never come to fruition. But he was sure he wasn't like his father, as what made him put his brother in jail was the fact that he murdered his long-term girlfriend.
The man tried not the cry, but the truth was that he still felt anger towards his Dad. For all these years he had kept the matter very well locked in his subconscious. He knew his father loved wrestling and walked away from it due to his brothers being born and he wanted to be the father he always wished he would’ve been for him… But it seems he kept the real reason hidden from all his loved ones.
"He put my brother in jail... and as soon as he gets out of jail he's going to want a piece of him... but the death of a star won't go unnoticed... will it? That's why we had to make him quit wrestling... so people would forget about him."
"But... if he's coming back... your plan failed..."
"Indeed. And that will not do!"
"That's... too bad!"
The man was quick the answer back and started laughing in the boss's face. This type of defiance was not something the boss regarded as courage, however, but rather pure, genuine stupidity. He pushed his hand backwards to get some good distance and then slammed it forward, slapping the man as hard as he could. The man and the chair fell together sideways after the impact, of balance. No more laughs were heard, as the man started coughing once again. The boss seized the opportunity to kick him in the chest, in a bold move, filled with anger, for how could such a man dare laugh in the face of someone like him?!
This was unacceptable. He breathed more heavily, frustrated that someone had laughed in his face. As he managed to compose himself again he quickly picked another paper to clean his hands from the blood, and after discarding it, he shoved his hair back and straightened his suit to look tidy again, as if nothing had ever happened. The boss started to breathe a little deeper, and he picked up the man and the chair and pulled them straight. Once again he put himself right in front of the man, and grabbed his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet each other one more time. The boss started laughing and looked at a wall for a brief moment before getting back to staring at the man's eyes, with a smile on his face.
"His return wasn’t expected…. He’s telling the world why he’s back, but at what price, huh?"
"I guess you’re on about me! You can barter my life with him, but i think that’s going to do you more harm than good…"
"I’m not scared, kid. You see, by my standards his death would have been done already... and it would look natural... such as a steroid overdose or something. But my brother... boy he's crazy. He wants to fight him to the death. You've pictured that? He wants to fight a professional wrestler and kill him with his own, bare hands..."
"Murder?!... That’s cute… I know for a fact my father has put a few men in the ground himself, so it’ll be something to feast my eyes on…"
"Such a death however needs to be kept in the shadows. And for it to be kept in the shadows, your father needs to be hiding in the shadows. If he's standing in front of the world with his arms raised high... such a death will not be possible."
The man wished he could just free himself and stop this nonsense. That this was nothing more than a nightmare, or if not, that he would be granted the power to stop them right now and save his father from the problems that he sees now coming his way. But once again reality found him powerless to do anything against these people, as his father’s apparent enemies are much more powerful than him, at this moment in time.
"But... why do you need... m-me? I’m guessing to make him suffer!!"
"Oh, the answer is simple. We need him to remember that we're still around, and waiting for him. We're going to blackmail him. Expecting, of course, that he has more interest in your well-being than you have in his..."
“That’s stupidity at its highest. I know he loves me, but him wanting to come back to wrestling was something he’s been yearning for…."
"Well everyone has a weakness. We'll find his. And if your death is necessary in the process, well... I wished I could offer you a more... meaningful death."
Once again the man laughed. He knew for sure the last time he had done it, he got under the nerve of the boss. And this time it didn't seem to be much different. The boss dropped his jaw and was about to punch him this time, but instead, he grabbed his hair and started walking around. As he composed himself again, he glared straight into his eyes, as he slowly bit a bit of his under lip, trying to keep himself together and not fall in a fit of anger and start kicking the living shit out of the man. The boss realised that if he continued to beat the man, who was already beaten to hell, in the end, he would end up killing him. And the boss couldn't let himself be found as a killer, not with his own hands. Besides, he still needed the man alive so he could get to his dad, otherwise, all this would have been a massive waste of time, and in a world where time is money, this couldn't be accepted. He wondered, however, why would someone be in such a condition be laughing... as the boss saw it, there was nothing laughable about this, especially not from the man's perspective.
"What's so funny about this?"
"You guys... think you own the w-world... don't you? Well... He won’t cave… Instead, he’ll burn everything you’ve built down to the ground if anything happens to me."
As he cursed the boss, in his boldest move and display of courage, the man tried to cover his face the most he could as he was sure there was a big beating coming. He stood still for a couple of seconds, waiting for the boss to strike. However, he felt no strike for a period that seemed to last for minutes, he looked up and found the boss to be extremely still and quiet. His eyes were as open as he had ever seen in a human being. The man could tell that the boss was most surprised. He wondered why, however... Had someone who was able to kidnap him not know enough about him?
"Most... intriguing!"
The boss picked up a small knife he kept on the top of his desk and a piece of paper. He approached the man, who tried to get away as quickly as possible. Preventing any fight from happening, the boss kicked the man and both he and the chair fell backwards. The man hit his head hard and couldn't barely move anymore. Pain was going through his entire body in a way he had never felt before. He believed he couldn't take it any longer, and that if he didn't get to a hospital soon enough, then he'd die. And this wasn't very far-fetched from the truth, as indeed the man was suffering from a considerable amount of damage done to him by several people to get him to this point. The boss used the knife to cut the man's arm. The man screamed as he felt the cold blade opening his skin as if it were butter in the summer. His warm, red blood started dripping quickly from the cut. As the man yelled, the enthusiasm of the boss seemed to grow larger. He used his knife as a pen and started writing a message on the paper, using the blood from the man as his ink.
"MARCO!"
The man laughed as he finished the letter. And quick as a flash, Marco came in through the door. He had waited outside with Fabio all this time and was simply waiting for the boss to say his name to come in. He seemed very surprised to see the man on the floor, bleeding and his boss writing a letter with his blood on the floor.
"Yes... boss?"
"I need you to take this man to Marie so she can take care of him. If nobody stops this bleeding he's probably going to die and that will not do. We need him alive. You hear me?"
"Yes, boss!... do you want me to talk with Susan as well?
"Yes. Tell her that my office needs to be cleaned. As quick as possible."
"Yes, boss!"
"Also... who is your most trusted man?"
"Fabio, he's waiting right outside sir. Why?"
"Give him this letter, and tell him it’s to be hand-delivered..."
"To who?"
"I need it delivered as soon as possible... to Rayne Young."
"Yes sir!"
The boss finished writing the letter, he dried the blood so the message wouldn't be lost and then gave it to Marco. As he turned his back, Marco picked up Rayne’s son, Clay by the chair and pulled him with himself outside his boss's office. He closed the door quickly, so the boss wouldn't be bothered anymore. The truth is that, anyone who knew the boss personally was frightened to death by him. He gave the letter to Fabio who looked oddly at him as he tried to unchain the man from the chair. Fabio helped him out. Once they managed to take him out of the chair, Marco gave him the chair and grabbed the man who couldn't even stand on his knees anymore.
"Look. Track down Rayne Young and give him that letter. And on your way out talk with Susan, tell her to go clean the boss's office as soon as he can, ok?"
"What the hell was going on in there man?"
"I dunno. And I don't wanna know. And you shouldn't either."
"Alright man. I’m on it."
Marco dragged the near-dead body of Clay away. Fabio looked down at the letter and looked back at Marco dragging Clay down the hall, thinking to himself, what on earth is going on… He knew his boss had some dealings with Rayne about eight years ago, but nothing’s been said on the matter since. What is truly going on!?!?!
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ON CAMERA - Shoot
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“Dexter…. Fucking… Grant… And your little bitch boy, Weasel. I’ve seen the shit you’ve been spouting and how you like to think you’ve gone off the grid. You’re a hypocrite. Living off the grid? Hate social media and what technology has done to the generations of people on this earth? And you’re using both to propitiate your cause.
You see Dex, i’m 43. The use of social media and technology has gone beyond anyone’s imagination. People are seduced by it all, and to me, i couldn’t give a rat's ass if i ever use the internet or social media again. But to attack me to try and spread your propaganda. Disconnect to reconnect, right? In principle, i agree with you, Dex. But you’ve poked the wrong bear in the way you’ve gone about it.
To take my cell, which has my family's names and contacts, putting their privacy at risk is something i can’t let lie. I was always going to kick your ass for attacking me with my interests elsewhere. But when you put my family in the mixer, you done fucked up boy. And the icing on the cake, Dex? It’s happening in my second home. My home away from home, Motor City Baybee.
The MC holds fond memories from the past. The Joe Louis Arena became my fortress, and even though it’s been torn down, the little caesars will have to do it instead. New Arena, same town, same fucking outcome. At Under Attack, Dex, you won’t know what’s hit you. The anger and hatred i’ve got for something fucking around with my family, there’s no coming back for you now.
For someone who claims to live off the grid, it makes me wonder how you got all that info on Chase Upshaw! You and Weasel, you’re both the type of guys that lurk around social media with faceless accounts. Both of you are just faceless pussies when it’s all said and done. I’m not just going to beat you at Under Attack, i’m going to make you bleed. And once i’m done with you, you will want to tuck your tail and finally leave to actually live off the grid.
Unlike you, Dex. When i say i’m going to do something, i’ll make good on it. I’m going to blaze a train, Dex. Continuing with you at Under Attack. Say a prayer for yourself and Weasel, because i will bury both of you.”
“I don’t want to be a product of my environment, i want my environment to be a product of me. I’ve got my self-esteem back, and i’ve got my confidence up. And Dexter Grant, that means you’re in for a world of hurt in the Motor City.