I.

[James Noir]

I.
Noir Is Dangerous

Richard Smith: ”Who tha’ fuck does this guy think he is?”

The board room was beginning to get anxious. There was a few people milling about, an agent his agent, stayed seated, smart phone within arm’s reach in case a phone call came through, and the man that APW had assigned to extend the contract, Richard Smith paced the floors angrily, constantly hawking the shiny gold watch on his left wrist.

It was fifteen after five p.m., almost a full hour after the meeting was supposed to take place.

Richard Smith: “That’s it. If he’s not here in fifteen minute, this whole fuckin’ thing is off. I’ve wasted enough of my time on guys who don’t show up, flake out on us. I’m tired of it.”

Voice: “Tired of what, exactly?”

The whole room fell quiet as they turned towards the entrance to the conference room. There stood the man of the hour, a ring of cigarette smoke around him, an immaculate black suit, perfectly gelled hair, dark sunglasses, and a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He arched his mouth up into a faux smile, one that annoyed Richard almost immediately. Something about this guy, other than his blatant tardiness and his apparently lack of care for authority, set Richard’s teeth on edge.

James Noir: “Calm down, before you have an aneurysm. All good things in life are worth waiting for. And trust me, I’m definitely worth the wait.”

Was this kid serious? Richard couldn’t decide. It was almost like Johnny Diamond and the rest of APW were playing some sort of trick on him. Yeah, that’s what it had to be, one big goof. Diamond and his friends were always goofing around. Richard decided to go along with it.

Richard Smith: “Alright, kid, have yourself a seat. Let’s get this thing going. I’ve got places to be.”

James Noir: “The first place I would go, if I were you, would be a hospital, have your blood pressure looked at. You’re a little red in the face…”

A huge smile came across the kid’s face. A smile that oozed malice.

James Noir: “Oh, I get it. You’re upset because you think I upstaged you. Made you all wait around to make my grand entrance. Something only someone despicable would actually do.”

The kid looked at each person in turn, their faces reflecting in the deep black of his sunglasses, which stood so far out of place in this particular conference room, it was almost unsettling.

Why won’t he take those damn things off, Richard wondered. What was he trying to hide? Red eyes from smoking? Something else? Richard was already beginning to hate the kid. Hate his attitude. But, under orders of the boss, he had to leave this room with a signature along the bottom of that contract.

Richard Smith: “Right, right. Well, take a seat. You’re here now, that’s all that counts.”

James smiled that despicable smile, and pulled up a seat beside of the female agent that would be representing him in the next few minutes. Whatever happened here, Richard had a bad feeling in his stomach.
James took the stub of the cigarette that he was previously smoking, tossed it into a potted tree, reached into the inside pocket of his perfectly groomed black suit, pulled a small package of cigarettes from pocket, glancing up at Richard as he did.

James Noir: “What is it, pops? Would you like one, too?”

Richard Smith: “What do I look like, kid? Do ya’ think I want to end my life early? ‘Cause that’s just what those things will do to ya’. “

James smirked, shook his head, and placed the cigarette in between his lips. He placed the small package in his inner jacket pocked, produced a small golden flip lighter, and lit the tip. James inhaled slowly, looked around at all of the people in the room staring at him, and exhaled the smoke.

Richard Smith: “Are you finished yet, kid?”

James Noir: “Am I finished yet? I thought you were still lecturing me on the adverse health effects of cigarettes. I thought you were going to call in the Surgeon General or something. Please, do go on.”

Richard Smith: “Well, thank you very much. I’m glad I can oblige…”

Before Richard could squeak out another word, James was quick to jump in.

James Noir: “You’re welcome.”

Richard let out a sarcastic laugh. Finally, after continuing pacng around the room, Richard finally decided to take a seat across from James Noir and his agent. He reached underneath the table and produced a leather briefcase. Popping the locks, Richard shuffled through a stack of papers inside of the suitcase and produced them in front of the agent and James Noir. He slid the papers across the table, produced a pen from the briefcase, and closed it. He pointed the pen at several locations on the paper.

Richard Smith: “Alright, here’s the deal. This is the base offer we give all new signees. I’m sorry I can’t give you anymore than that.”

James finally lifted his sunglasses from his eyes, showing normal eyes, which is definitely not what Richard expected. Those eyes, though, went along perfectly with that malevolent smile that Noir seemed to be constantly producing.

Richard watched as those eyes crawled the pages. As they did, a bad feeling began creeping inside of him. Something churned in his stomach. A biting fear. This man wasn’t the normal type of ‘bad guy’ that Richard had signed before. This man emitted something different, projected an aura that Richard did not care for.

After a few moments of reading, and a few moments of discussion, James pointed to the APW contract that sat in front of him.

James Noir: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Every jaw in the room hit the floor.

James Noir: “Before I even start talking about this minimum wage offer you’re trying to swindle me down to, I wanted to point out a few things first. Number one, you’re making me wrestle a guy named ‘Mr. Dangerous’ in my first match? My first fucking match? What do you want, me to go out there and get hurt before your two-bit insurance kicks in? ‘Hey, lets injure the new guy so our premium doesn’t go up!’ Sounds like a great idea, huh?”

Richard Smith: “Well, I mean…”

James Noir: “Wait just a second Sir Speech Impediment, I’m still going. I had to listen to your bullshit for fifteen minutes; it’s my turn now. Second, on top of that horrible booking you’re expect me to sign, you’re excluding me from this huge Meltdown mega match, where all of the other winners on Meltdown will get a shot at the North American Title? What kind of bullshit is that?”

Richard Smith: “Well, we really wanted to give the talent we have a shot at the big time. Ya’ know? We don’t want some new guy coming in and stealin’ their thunder.”

The laugh that followed echoed around what had turned into a silent room. Richard noted that James’ laugh was just as chilling as his smile. This was not a man to be crossed.

James Noir: “Talent? TALENT? Gramps, you’ve got to be kidding me? What kind of talent is there on this piss poor Meltdown roster? I look around, and what do I see? A bunch of guys who either think they’re some sort of bad ass, a guy who actually thinks he’s some sort of savior, who, let’s be honest, the only way he could save us would be to get the fuck off our television sets.

But other than that, you talk about talent? Do you not realize I am your talent? When I walked through that door, when I sat at this table, and when I do sign this horrible offer you’re offering me, because trust me, it is horrible, you’re going to realize what I actually mean to this company. What I actually mean to this brand.

Sure, at the top you’ve got guys like Noble, like Hart, like Level One. But down here, down in the fucking cheap seats, you have me. You have all of them, and then you have me. There is complete separation between us, whether they call themselves lively or they call themselves hard knocks. Whatever they call themselves, they’re not me. They’re not the new black.”

James grabbed the contract, scribbled his signature along the dotted lines on each of the pages, then scribbled something at the top, took a puff of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke into Richard’s face, and got up from the table. He stormed out, leaving his agent scrambling after him. Richard shook his head. Whatever just happened, he knew he was going to regret sooner rather than later.

Richard grabbed up the page and started to tuck it into the briefcase when he caught what James had written at the top. It said simply:

Get a better fucking offer, and get your best a title shot.