The Odysseus Mandate Vs A Woman's Wrath, Lucia Vs Foster

[Leon Desfait]

FINISH HIM...

[Lucia]

Prologue
Last week proved to be a good one for me, had my first ever real wrestling match, faced off against two men and did what I said I was going to do. I told Fracture I was going to beat him, and that’s exactly what I did. I told that piece of shit Jeff Mouland it wouldn’t be an easy task beating me, and I think I proved that quite well, when I hit him with the beautifier and took him out, and now no one has seen him since. It’s not my problem he can’t handle a loss, not my problem he made some promises he could not keep, unfortunately for Caleb this week he was to partner with him and is now forced to team with someone else, because Jeff bailed out of the match? I really have no idea what’s going on there but I am sure we’ll find out soon enough. This however is not my concern for the week. It seems someone watched my match and wanted a piece of me. For what reason I have no idea, maybe he saw something great in me, perhaps he has something to prove, perhaps he feels I have no place in UcW, but for whatever reason I am pretty honored.

Why am I honored you ask? No matter the reason he chose me for this match, I’ve caught the eye of someone, and no matter what he may say, he must be somewhat worried about me. I may be new but I think I created some sort of a ripple through the wave of wrestlers backstage, and this week I am facing Daniel Foster. So how am I supposed to feel? Scared, proud, worried? Well personally I am a little anxious. I am still whirling off my last match so I am ready to this bull by the horns and take him down.

Scene 1:
So had my parents seen my match? That’s all I could think about as I pulled the covers off of myself in my hotel room bed. Had they had the curiosity to watch me and did they feel proud that I stood up for what I believed in and conquered the one that made me feel so incredibly mad? I hadn’t gotten a call yet, nothing from my mother or father that even consisted of; “come home please, don’t take that as a career, come be a simple housewife” but still nothing that told me they were proud of me either. I walked over to my bag and threw on some baggy sweat pants and a plain black tank top and a tight grey zipped up sweater with large black stars all over it, and black stripes in the hood. I brushed my hair and teeth, threw on some jogging shoes and headed downstairs to the common room for some breakfast, yea stupid I know brush my teeth then eat, but morning breath is not always the greatest thing.

I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby and to my dismay I saw someone familiar walking towards me, a frown spread across my face and I walked faster, hoping that he didn’t see me and also hoping I could out walk them and lose them somewhere, and just when I thought it was working, just when I thought they hadn’t seen me I hear that horrible little voice call out my name.

Lucia? Lucia is that you?

I continue to walk pretending I hadn’t heard him. Hoping he’d sit back and think to himself that it wasn’t really me. Nope, of course he wouldn’t do think that, he actually ran after me, caught up to me and stopped me.

Wow Lucia it really is you, how have you been baby.

Ugh! Did he just call me baby, I’m not his baby, and far from it.

Oh mark, hi, I’ve been great, how have you been?

I didn’t really care how he’s been but hey I had to be polite….for now anyway.

Well babe it’s been weird not having you around, still wondering what went wrong.

Did he just call me babe this time, if he didn’t stop calling me babe and baby soon he’d be getting a good swift kick in the teeth.

Oh? Well I thought I made it pretty clear.

I could see he was going to change the subject here now; he always did in uncomfortable situations. Now just to explain who Mark is, he’s the man my mother and father wanted me to marry, some snooty, little rich boy who didn’t know his ass from his head, considering his head was stuck up in the air so bloody high, he’d never have seen his ass anyway, one of those types that thinks their shit doesn’t stink when his stunk worst of all, yea you know the type. Well my mother decided he was the best man for me. Marry into his family become rich, have his disgusting children, take care of them, wear pretty little dresses, have social balls and tea parties and live happily ever after, totally not the life for me. So what happened? Yea I dated the moron just to suit my mother and father, but I was never happy, he was just too self centered and no matter how hard I tried to love him, I just couldn’t, so I ran away and never turned back, just packed my shit and up and left. He called everyday, I changed my cell phone number, I didn’t want to talk to him, I even took a number of days before I even called my parents and told them my new number. I had to be sure they wouldn’t give him my number. Now here he was standing in front of me and I had to own up now, tell him the deal and make him look like a piece of shit in front of all these people.

I saw you on TV a few nights ago, you’re a wrestler now are you?

That I am, it’s my calling.

Not even, you could do so much more better then that, getting beaten up, and cut up and getting that pretty face all bruised up, that’s not the life for you. Wrestling is for ugly chicks and staying home and dressing up in elegant dresses is for pretty women, and you my dear are that pretty woman. So come on baby, come back with me, and marry me.

I tried to stifle a laugh, but it wasn’t possible for me. It was time to embarrass this man in front of the whole hotel lobby.

First of all “I” am not your baby, no will I ever be “Your” baby. I am my own woman and I refuse to be some trophy house wife, there just for your bloody amusement day in and day out, I refuse to sit there like some stupid bitch popping out babies for the rest of my life and having some god damned nanny clean their asses for me. I refuse to spend someone else’s money in material things I really could do without, and I refuse to live some god damned lie because someone else wants to make my life up for me. Do I look like a dumb bitch to you Mark? Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not even good enough to even begin to think that, how could some ordinary woman spend their life with a horrible man like you, some man that believes in this boring life for women, a man that takes longer in the bathroom then the woman, making every crease in his clothes just perfect, a man that has to have every hair in place? How could a woman spend her life with a man she could never love, that sticks his nose in the air and thinks he’s so much better then everyone else in the world because he happened to be born with that silver spoon in mouth, you are out of your poor little mind if you think that is something I desire. Now I will ask a favor of you Mark. Keep out of touch with my family and keep your distance from me or I will break those cute little manicured fingers of yours and give you a fat lip to match it. You read me loud and clear?

All he can do is nod and take a step back, he knew me too well and he knew I’d do just that.

Don’t even try to change my mind, and if you call me babe or baby, honey, sweetheart or any of those annoying little pet names I will break your nose. Now leave.

Without a word he fixed his stupid little man purse back on his shoulder correctly and backed away into the opposite direction and turned around, hi-tailing it out of there as quick as he could. I smirk to myself now, perhaps life was going to start going well for me. I train, become a wrestler in an amazing company, well so far anyway, I win my first match, keep one man in the low down shit matches as I like to think they are, and also shut up a man that thought he had it all, thought he beat me, and now I think I finally scared Mark off. Well here’s to hoping that’s for sure, time for breakfast. I walk away from the lobby still smiling and head into the common room.

Scene 2:
I am sitting in my hotel room now a little portable camcorder in my hand and the record button pushed a large smile on my face.

Well hello Mr. Foster, the names Lucia, but I think you already knew that didn’t you? So why me? Can you tell me why I was such an interest to you? Why I bugged you so much? I’m sure it was stupid reason because no one really says that they were impressed with someone’s abilities so early in their career, so what was it? Did you think I was cocky in saying I was going to beat Fracture last week, hated the way I spoke to Jeff Mouland and threw all my emotion into the match, as I should have, take all my anger out but be sure not to make a stupid mistake? There had to be something you saw in me, but I’ll bet you’ll never say, you’d rather keep me wondering, you seem the type, act all mysterious and make me wonder so it drives me crazy. That little plan won’t work for you unfortunately, but on a dumber person, perhaps it would, I however am not the average wrestler. I have more to prove then most. Most of you wrestlers these days only have the other wrestlers, the bosses, the fans and yourself to prove your talents to, but me I have so many more to prove myself to. Like everyone else, it’s the fans, the others in the back, the bosses, that internal struggle with myself, my parents, my friends, all those people that thought I should be some simple little housewife, my whole family, so many people to please. You may ask why do I care what they all think, it’s the people in my life that mean so much to me, my parents and family is just something I cannot lose from my life right now, those people that thought I should be a housewife or thought I’d never amount to anything? This is just a kick in their face and an I told you so bitches. You understand that right? A woman needs to prove a little something to people that is so incredibly oblivious to the real world, and well I am one of those women that need to prove something. Pity I know, but it’s a need in my life, a weakness if you must say, but I know it will all work out in the end, and why? It’s because I have heart, a real passion for this sport, and I will do anything to win a match, learn a lesson and I never back down from anyone or anything that pertains to the wrestling ring.

I rest my arms on the table that I am sitting at now, what? The camera was getting heavy I had to do something.

I would love to know how you feel about this match, a number of questions come to my mind, but three in general stick out more, are you ready for this match, are you the least bit worried about this match whatsoever, and did you just want this match because you thought, mmmm new meat and an easy target? Hey it’s something I need to know, something to get my creative juices flowing and perhaps a little anger thrown out there as well. Come on you know a match is better when you piss your opponent off, so do whatever in that ring, but remember this Foster it goes both ways, what you throw out at me will come back at you twice as hard and trust me pal, I’ll love every second of it. Believe it or not I’m a little sick and twisted underneath this nice girl look but hey aren’t we all just a little sick and twisted sometimes? So Foster let me just issue out this good luck to you, I’m not going to say you need it, because frankly I have no idea how we’ll fare off in the ring, you are a great competitor, and hopefully you’ll be a great opponent , but it’s a good luck all the same. I wont be a fool and say I am going to beat you, because this time I’m really not sure, but I know one thing, I will be a winner in a way, because lose or win I’m still going to get a piece of you and right now that’s all I ask for. See you in the ring Foster, should be a great one.

I smirk and my hand extends to turn the camera off.

**Edited** due to the damn thing entered on me while I was coding it. Nothing has been changed just my colors.

[Daniel Foster]

The skies over London are dark and foreboding. They recently opened up to release a torrent of rain but have since been silenced and made silent. They sit there now only to watch over us and pass judgment upon us. How shall those all seeing eyes judge me? Does it matter? Perhaps not, but then what is the point of life if there is no goal? These are all questions for another time. The only real quandary is how I am going to get to Michigan in time for-

“Daniel,” Ben says as he opens the door, interrupting my train of thought. “We have a situation.”

“A situation? Should we go to def con four? Battle stations?” I ask, turning away from the window and looking at him.

“Its serious. Your brother is here and he’s asking, well demanding, to see you.”

I turn my body fully towards Ben as he bites his bottom lip. It’s a peculiar trait that Ben has when he is nervous but it usually rarely shows because he is rarely nervous. However, Ben knows the storied history between my brother and myself. He recalls how my brother was the favorite son as we grew up, only to be a disappointment to my father. My father still hopes that Robert will be like the prodigal son and return to him. I have no doubts that my father would receive him with arms open wide, but what about me?

“Alright, show him in,” I say, before taking a seat behind my desk. I close a file that is on the desk and sit back in the chair. Within a moment my brother comes walking through the door. He and I don’t look much alike I must say. His hair has an auburn quality to it and his face is speckled with a few patches of freckles. His hair is neatly combed and gelled and his face is cleanly shaved. He is almost the spitting image of my father in his younger years, strong and robust. Robert stands about three or four inches taller than me, a product of my father’s bloodline. I am much more my mother’s son with my dark eyes and dark hair. Robert is almost everything I am not.

And yet, I fear we are the same.

“Daniel, you’re looking well,” he says with a smile, extending an arm out to shake my hand.

“Sit down, Robert. What do you want?” I say, coldly. He sits down and looks offended. Good, that was the idea.

“What do I want? Why can’t you just believe that I wanted to come and see my little brother?” He says, taking note of the paintings and fine carpet adorning my office.

“Because I know you. What’s the matter? Run out of money again?”

He frowns. My brother’s exploits are well known to me. After graduating from Harvard, with much help from my father, he began working at a business firm there. However, he took his partying lifestyle with him after he left college. After work he would still party with his friends from the rugby team and ones that he met at school. While this all seems innocent enough there is nothing more dangerous than a group of bored rich kids. My brother decided to continue is vices from simple alcohol to cocaine. When my father and I first learned of this we did not say much. After all, he seemed happy and it did not interfere with his work much.

That was until a fateful exchange at a party that my brother was at. Already hyped up on cocaine, someone from the office party challenged him to a fake fight. The man was a member of the Northeastern University rugby team and each man had played each other. I say a fake fight because the intentions of the man were to simply get my brother riled up. Robert, in a moment he says he doesn’t recall, apparently threw the poor guy out of a third story window. The guy survived the fall but was paralyzed from the waist down. After hearing this, my father quickly swooped in and began the payoffs so that the damage was controlled.

This was not the last time that my father had to save my brother. Looking back, just before the incident was the high point of my brother’s credibility within the family. After this, things only got worse for my brother. He was caught sniffing cocaine at work a few too many times and was forced to leave the company. After that he wanted to come work for my father my Robert Sr. would have none of it. Some of the reasons were business, some personal. At the end of the day my brother was left to rot out on the East coast.

“What do you mean? I’m doing quite well to be honest with you,” he says, looking down at his hands.

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh? Been sober for, what, the plane ride? No, they serve alcohol there, don’t they?”

He reaches up and pushes his gelled hair back; creating a look that is almost reminiscent of Conan O’Brien.

“No, longer than that. I’ve come to apologize to you, Daniel.”

I look at him, wide eyed, before I let the laughter escape. I take a deep breath to try and stifle it, but the laughter continues. Apologize, to me? Apologize for the years of disappointment before he and I even graduated high school? My brother and I are only about two years apart, but a lot separates us between those two years. My brother was a popular fellow, as you might imagine. He was the king of the school when he entered his junior year. By the time he reached his senior year he already had a girl get an abortion when he got her pregnant in a fit of drunkenness. I hear him and her speak about it at our home. She was obviously crying and he was pacing back and forth.

“Take care of it,” he said, before leaving the room.

Rachael, I think that was her name, continued to sit on the couch while tears poured down her cheeks. I did not disagree with my brother’s decision. Both he and she were far too young to actually take care of another life, but his matter and tact left a lot to be desired to say the least. Then there was the time my car was impounded because my brother decided it was a good idea to race people with it. All these transactions, however, are only footnotes on the list of despairs he has wrought my family.

“You’re going to apologize to me after all you’ve done? What is this, part of your latest ten-step program?”

“I mean it Daniel, I’m turning my life around. I’m going-“

“No, no you’re not. I’m going to tell you exactly what is going to happen. You’re going to leave here and go back to the States and discover something else that you will use to get your highs. It may not be drugs, it may not be killing Ozzy-“

“That was an accident,” he mumbles.

“An accident?” I yell. “An accident is when you hit the dog with your car. Not when you put cocaine into the dog’s food because you and your friends think it would be hilarious.”

He stares at me, his face solemn and serious. He stands up and walks toward the door.

“I didn’t mean to hit her,” he says, turning back to face me.

“Get out, now. Crawl back to your vices, like we both know you will. I have nothing more to say to you.” My voice is quiet and grave. He gets the hint, however, and leaves the room. Ben closes the door and walks after him, most likely to make sure there aren’t any more issues. There is a knock at my door, but I simply look down at the desk and hold my head in my hands.

“Not right now,” I say, loud.

This doesn’t stop the person in question, though, as the door opens. Aurora steps through with her briefcase in her hand.

“I’m sorry Daniel but we need to leave right now. Your driver is outside and waiting to take us to the airport. We have to leave now or else we won’t make the flight.”

I look up before nodding my head. I stand and grab the file from my desk. I tuck it under my arm as I walk to the corner of my office where I keep my coat rack. I put on both my suit jacket and my trench coat before walking out of the office with Aurora. I wait a moment in the lobby until I see Ben come from outside. His hair and clothes are wet.

“Is he gone?” I ask.

“Yeah, I made sure he got a taxi back to the airport. Is everything alright?”

I nod and smile. “We’re off to secure our new teammate. Can you handle everything here?”

He nods. “Yeah, I have everything under control Daniel. I’ll call you if we have any problems, but I don’t foresee any. Enjoy the weather,” he finishes with a smile.

“Sure thing. I’ll grab you a post card a bottle of fuck you,” I say, with a smirk.

With that, Aurora and I leave the building. She briefs me about what exactly Odysseus knows about myself and what I’m planning to do. She goes over the man’s history again but I know most of it by heart at this point. Finally she gives me some strategies that may work in finally swaying him to our side. If all goes according to plan he should make his arrival at the pay per view. That is, if everything goes according to plan.

The plane ride is uneventful save for a rather attractive flight attendant with gorgeous brown hair. Flirting with her was entertaining until we hit the mid-Atlantic and then I just wanted to sleep. My dreams were dominated with memories, I believe. It is difficult to remember them, except for one in the rain and the sound of screeching tires.

Our arrival at the airport in Michigan is unheralded and quiet. I quickly check my watch as we land and look at Aurora- we are behind schedule.

“Do you want to go to the hotel first?” She asks.

I shake my head. “Not enough time. We will have to go straight to the bar.”

We leave the airport and get into a car waiting for us. Aurora tells the driver of the address and that we are in a hurry. He speeds off into the night, dodging cars and the pedestrians alike. We pull up next to the bar and the driver stops the car. I reach over to grab the door handle when Aurora grabs my arm.

“Would you like me to come in with you?” Aurora asks.

I look at her arm and then at her with a look of disdain. “What are you, my mother? Don’t touch me,” I say, coldly. I shrug her arm off and exit the car. The cool Michigan air hits me like a slap in the face, but it awakens me. I walk over to the bar door and open it. The room is smoky and fairly busy. There is a man sitting at the bar, flanked by two empty seats. The two empty seats draw my attention to him and I smile. Odysseus, we meet at last.

I spy empty seat two seats to the man’s right and sit down. I can tell that he has noticed me, but I make no distinguishable move or action. I simply sit at the bar and watch Odysseus from the corner of my eye. I watch as he slams a drink down and seems like he prepares himself to leave.

“Had a bad day?” I ask.

“A few,” he responds. He looks over at me. “Glad to see somebody in here has a smile on their face,” he says as he stands to reach for his wallet.

I smirk. “Life is good. Why don’t you sit back down, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Thanks,” Odysseus responds before grabbing a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and placing it on the bar counter. “I’m not that way, though. No offense.”

I laugh. “You read me wrong,” I say, calming myself. “Just, it seems like I’ve offended you and I wanted to buy you a drink.”

“By what, being perky? No, you didn’t offend me,” he responds.

“No,” I say, “by being late. I hate making people wait.”

He stares at me and I know I have his attention. His complacent smile turns into a look of confusion.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“That’s right,” I say, remembering what he was told. “You were expecting Aurora, weren’t you? Please, sit, I’ll explain things to you.” I look over to the bartender and raise my hand. “Two drinks down here barkeep – whatever my friend was drinking.”

The bartender approaches our end of the bar. He grabs Odysseus’ empty glass and replaces it with a full one.

“Maker’s Mark,” Odysseus tells me.

“Whiskey, eh? Interesting choice,” I say.

“Can we cut to the part where you tell me who you are and why I’m supposed to listen to whatever off Aurora has been flaunting lately?” He asks me.

I gently nod my head. “We can, but you have to sit down first.”

I watch him as he sits down on the stool.

“Right now you’re wondering where Aurora is. That’s understandable; she’s been your go-to contact. You like some reliability, some consistency.”

“I also like names,” he interjects. “I assume you have one.”

I smile with embarrassment. “My apologies. I’ve heard so much about you that I skipped a few steps. My name is Daniel. Daniel Foster.”

He looks at me, puzzled. He has obviously never heard of me before, oh well.

“And what are you,” He asks. “Aurora’s secretary?”

I laugh. I can tell I do nothing to aid in his confusion, so I answer. “No. I’m her boss.”

“Her boss?” He asks. “At her talent agency?”

I smile again at his lack of knowledge. It always feels nice being the one that holds all of the cards. “Aurora doesn’t work for a sports agency,” I say. “That was merely her cover while she got to know the UCW roster.”

He smiles and laughs quietly.

“You’re laughing,” I say.

“Everybody’s just so duplicitous,” he begins. “All these elaborate schemes, the cloak-and-dagger games. And I’m what, to you? Some manipulated tool?”

I quickly shake my head. “I apologize. You must think I’m some sort of perfidious prick, don’t you?” I begin. “Look, “ill come clean. I know a lot about you. And I’ll explain everything. It’s no longer fair to keep you out of loop as long as we have.”

“How considerate,” he says, sarcasm ringing though his words. The barman walks over and replaces our whiskey. Odysseus smiles to the man and takes a sip from his tumbler.

“I have a lot of friends in this world, but Aurora is one of six people that I trust,” I say. I reach down and take a sip of whiskey. “She’s told me a lot of about you as well as brought me tapes of all of your matches.”

“All my UCW matches?” He asks.

“No,” I say. “Those are just your greatest hits. But one would be remiss to neglect your history before that short run. I’ve seen every match. I’ve scoured the bootleggers, the archives, the YouTube, all of it. At least, my people have. From all of that, do you know what I’ve learned?”

What’s that?” He asks.

“That you don’t belong,” I say. I pause for a moment before continuing. “Doctor Ian, Randall Raines, Declan O’Connell, you were able to beat them because you’re not one of them. UCW is just a big toolbox for a bunch of simple-minded hammers. Tools with no tact – the means of production, where that production is entertainment. You stick out. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“This sport epitomizes culture,” I begin. “It evolves and it bends to fit the world around it. It is carried not by a gold standard, but by the forerunners of the day. All these people, these fans, they’re used to narcissists who pretend to fight over these aesthetic, semantic differences, but in the end, they’re all the same. Do you know what makes you better than them?”

“What?” He asks.

“Motivation. You’re not motivated by greed, and you’re damn sure not into this sport for your ego.”

“I’m not in this sport at all,” he says, slightly agitated. “I quit! I left this place to be with my family it’s because of you – because of Aurora – that I even considered coming back. And it’s not because of anything other than the fact that my family needs a roof of their heads.”

I smile at his resolve, for this is why I’m here for him.

“Exactly,” I say. “But you didn’t always hate this sport.”

“You don’t know that,” he begins. “It’s filled with sycophants, master manipulators and cold-blooded sociopaths. It’s the bottom of the barrel – it’s a collection of thugs that makes the NBA look like a group of missionaries.”

“Then why did you compete?” I ask. “It wasn’t to make your wife proud. It was for the paycheck. That makes sense. I mean, yeah, you could’ve gone back to California and continued to write, but instead you stayed in an industry that forced you to put your life and limb in harm’s way on a nightly basis. Makes sense,” I finish before taking another sip from my whiskey. I can’t take this shit anymore. “This is terrible. Bartender, a beer please.”

He hears my plea and moves to grab my beer from a nearby refrigerator.

“Not a whiskey drinker?” Odysseus asks.

“No. I’m just not a bad whiskey drinker, but let’s not change the subject.”

“Is there a point you’re driving at?”

“Why did you stick with wrestling?” I ask.

“It was easy money.”

So is McDonalds.”

“Look, I don’t need to have my motivations questioned,” he says, sounding a little unnerved.

“I’m not questioning your motivations. I just want to hear you admit that the only reason you stayed in this business was to make your brother proud of you.”

He is silent for a moment.

“You know nothing about me,” he pauses. “I suggest you reconsider your information,” he says as he reaches again for his wallet. “I’m leaving now, Mr. Foster.”

“I’m paying,” I say.

“Fine, then good evening.” He stands up and walks around the bar, past myself.

“You’ve got a lot of talent,” I say, loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve seen what you can do when you take the weight of the world off your shoulders.”

“How inspiring,” he quips before grabbing his jacket from a coat rack near the front of the bar. He nears the front door before I speak out.

“When was the last time you were out of debt? When was the last time you didn’t owe anything to someone else? That is the measure of true freedom and I am willing to give it to you,” I say, grabbing his attention.

He stops at the door and turns around to face me.

“All of your debt, your living expenses, your brother’s rehab and unpaid medical bills? I’ll pay them all, and do you know what that means for you?” I ask.

“What,” he says, choking out the words.

“It means that you can stop hating yourself for being good,” I begin. “You can stop hating yourself, because you will not be in wrestling for the paycheck, or to support your family, but because you deserve to be recognized for your talent.”

“I don’t need recognition,” he says.

“You’ll also be free to get revenge without fear of being fired, and you’ll actually have a friend to cover your back, and take care of your family,” I say.

He frowns, thinking about my offer. He probably knows it’s too good to be true and is hesitant. This is why I chose him.

“And in exchange?” He asks.

“You were right from the moment you opened your mouth at your first press conference.” I say. “The wrestling industry is corrupt. It’s full of cliques and power-mad sycophants. Together, you and I, we can revitalize this sport. We can give it back its soul. I will free you from your fear, from your stress, from your anxiety. You will be able to be that confident, infallible talent that we both know you can be… And you won’t have to compartmentalize. You won’t have to do anything but live up to your potential. “

“And in exchange?” He asks, more forcefully.

“In exchange, you will be my army,” I say. “I’m walking into GoldRush, the next Pay-Per-View, looking to make a statement. One man can defeat the entire roster twice over and not gain an inch of respect, similar to how you defeated all of their champions and never got an once of acknowledgement. But together, you and I can put a chokehold on the establishment. We can redeem your brother, and together, we can revolutionize this entire industry. “

“What’s in it for you?” He asks. “You’re not altruistic, nobody is.”

I smirk. “I’m not altruistic at all,” I begin. “But I am interested in justice. Come with me and give me your faith that I will have your best intentions at hear, and I will fill you in on my entire game plan. You will know my end game, and together, we can make a difference.”

He looks away from me and toward the other barflies who have watched us during this whole affair. I noticed that their attention was picked up a while ago, but I pay them no heed.

“You have to say ‘yes,’ though,” I say.

He opens his mouth slowly, preparing to answer.